


The Rising Sun

by Inkbrush



Series: The Osaka Chronicles [1]
Category: Samurai Warriors
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Conflicted Hideyori, Divided Loyalties, F/M, Feudalism, Fix-It, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mitsunari Doesn't Die, Ninja, Plot, Plot Twists, Politics, Protective Mitsunari, Protectiveness, Rank Barriers, Samurai, Samurai Honour, Series Knowledge Not Required, Slash, Social Customs, Strong Hideyori, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-03-12 16:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13551141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkbrush/pseuds/Inkbrush
Summary: Ieyasu Tokugawa had taken everything from him. It was only natural that he take it all back. Hideyori Toyotomi did not take well to betrayal.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story explores the alternate timeline in which Hideyori Toyotomi is a strong, sympathetic, and flawed character, and never stops fighting for his goals.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this story! Please Enjoy!  
> x Inkbrush x

**Prelude**

It is a time of war in feudal Japan!

 

After years of fighting for control in an endless dance of bloodshed, one warlord unites the land beneath him. Hideyoshi Toyotomi dies young, entrusting Japan to a council of five regents until his son, Hideyori, comes of age to take the mantle. Tokugawa, the most influential and cunning of the regents, thinks to take advantage.

 

Pulling allies to his side, Tokugawa sets to march on Hideyori’s home at Osaka.

 

There’s only one problem. Hideyori Toyotomi has come of age, and will not allow himself to be stripped of his birthright. He assembles a force of his own to intercept the betrayer’s army, led by his most loyal supporter and retainer, Mitsunari Ishida, known throughout the land as the Horned Demon. Upon Mitsunari’s pleas, Hideyori stays behind at Osaka.

 

The two armies meet on a field called Sekigahara, where fate is decided…

**~~~~~**

**Chapter 1 – Hideyori’s Vision**

 

Japan. 1600.

 

Hideyori Toyotomi stood in a wide field. Fog curled around his ankles and face, wisping around his waist-length brown hair, released from its usual ponytail only when he slept. It was released now. Ahead were rows upon rows of rank and file soldiers in yellow battle armour. They stood stock still, armour adorned with the Toyotomi crest – half an upside-down flower from which protruded three vertical plant-like shapes. The soldiers stood in blocks, separated by aisles. Hideyori ran to the end of an aisle and stared. The sea of yellow was his father’s – _no, his_ – army. His father was dead.

 

Hideyori strolled down the aisle.

 

This field was Sekigahara, where the Toyotomi army he’d sent off this morning from Osaka Castle was fated to clash with the army of Tokugawa, who had betrayed Hideyori’s father and the House of Toyotomi. Tokugawa wanted to become ruler of Japan, a title which was his father’s, and now Hideyori’s by birthright. Hideyori realised he was seeing the moment before the Battle of Sekigahara’s beginning. This was odd as Hideyori’s most recent memory was wrapping himself in his futon at Osaka Castle.

 

Hideyori looked down at himself and understood. He was wearing his white sleeping robe. This was a dream. It had to be.

 

The soft sound of hooves snapped Hideyori from his thoughts. A man was riding down the aisle toward him – one of his fathers – _no, his_ – samurai generals. The man wore a long white robe with flaring sleeves and a blue and white hat that stuck up on his head like the ears of a cat. His mouth and chin hid behind a high collar. The horse raced toward him, smoke flaring from its nostrils in the pre-dawn mist.

 

It didn’t slow down. Had the man not seen him?

 

“Yoshitsugu!” yelled Hideyori, waving his arms. Yoshitsugu did not slow down. “ _Hey, Yoshitsugu_!” Hideyori waved harder. Yoshitsugu did not slow. Hideyori couldn’t move, the soldiers were too tightly packed and didn’t acknowledge his existence. Hideyori screamed and threw up his arms over his face. “YOSHITSUGU!” Hideyori braced himself for bone-breaking impact, and experienced two seconds of blinding black and deafness. No impact came, and he opened his eyes to an empty aisle ahead. He spun and saw the retreating end of Yoshitsugu’s horse. _It had passed right through him._ Hideyori shivered.

 

Yoshitsugu slowed a few metres away and another mounted general raced from the end of the aisle to meet him – the same end Hideyori had just entered.

 

Hideyori got closer.

 

The new man had long straight red hair that flew behind him in the night breeze and two demon-like horns sprouted from a metal band around his head. The sight of the horned man calmed Hideyori. Where Mitsunari was, no harm could come to him – that was just a fact.

 

“Yoshitsugu,” said Mitsunari, the horned man. “Have the Mountain Squadron moved yet?”

 

Yoshitsugu pulled down his high collar. “Not yet, my friend. They keep turning away our messengers,” he said softly.

 

“ _The bastards_ ,” said Mitsunari.

 

On a mountain near the field was a great force led by one of Hideyori’s generals. They were supposed to charge down the mountain on the orders of Mitsunari, the leader of his army. It seemed they were rebelling. Had they betrayed him?

 

“Whether the Mountain Squadron move or not, we will fight this battle for Lord Hideyori. We will not let the traitor Tokugawa reach Osaka,” said Mitsunari.

 

“We will defeat him. You have my word,” said Yoshitsugu, eyes sincere.

 

“Thank you, my friend.” Eyes gleaming, the red-haired man snapped open his giant war-fan. “We ride at dawn.”

 

The world tilted and spun and blurred and Hideyori fell to the ground. When he righted himself and pushed brown locks from his face, he saw he was now inside a war-camp atop a hill. A familiar red-haired man stood at the edge of the hill, looking down on the battle below, where seas of yellow and blue soldiers clashed in the afternoon sun. The battle had been raging all day. A yellow-armoured soldier stopped a few steps from Mitsunari and dropped to one knee.

 

“My Lord, our forces are pushing back the enemy. Tokugawa’s forces are taking heavy casualties” said the soldier. Hideyori’s heart leapt.

 

“Good. Send the smoke signal to the Mountain Squadron. We’ll crush Tokugawa and all who follow him,” said Mitsunari. Hideyori could hear the sadness behind Mitsunari’s words; he was close with many of Tokugawa’s generals. They had all been united under Hideyori’s father – but that was before.

 

Within seconds, a cannon had fired smoke into the air, and the men’s heads turned to the nearby mountain. A minute later, another yellow soldier knelt by Mitsunari.

 

“The Mountain Squadron is _not moving_ , My Lord.” So they had betrayed him after all. A gust of wind tinged with the scent of blood ruffled Mitsunari’s red hair, and he held his hands behind his back. The horned man’s forehead developed furrows. Another soldier ran up.

 

“My Lord, The Mountain Squadron is moving!”

 

Mitsunari’s eyes lit up until the man continued.

 

“They’ve turned against us, My Lord. They’re smashing into the right flank contingent led by Lord Yoshitsugu.”

 

_Yoshitsugu…_

A face masked in a cat-ear hat and high collar flashed through Hideyori’s mind. His stomach dropped.

 

“My Lord!”

 

“My Lord, what are your orders?” The soldiers crowded Mitsunari.

 

Mitsunari whistled a high, piercing note and a horse came galloping up. The red-haired man swung into the saddle. “We will salvage this! We must–”

 

Another yellow-armoured man appeared. “The Mountain Squadron’s defection has triggered dissent among the generals. Three of our generals on the right flank have defected.” Hideyori’s head spun.

 

Another soldier came, this time on a horse. “Lord Yoshitsugu has fallen!”

 

Hideyori felt sick.

 

“The right flank has fallen!”

 

Mitsunari was silent on his horse, staring dumbly at the saddle pommel, which he gripped in shaking hands. Then he looked up, fire in his eyes. “Clear a path through the army. I will kill Tokugawa.”

 

The soldiers stood silently.

 

Mitsunari’s war-fan snapped open. “ _Go!_ ”

 

“Yes, My Lord!” chorused the soldiers.

 

Then the world was spinning and blurring again and Hideyori was flying on the wind next to Mitsunari’s horse. A clear rivulet ran down Mitsunari’s cheek and he wiped it away angrily, smearing blood. Mitsunari was covered in blood.

 

“Forgive me, Lord Hideyori,” whispered Mitsunari.

 

Ahead was a line of bowmen, then a line of musketeers, and behind them – sporting the spotless armour of a man who had led a battle from the rear – was Tokugawa. The bowmen shot, but Mitsunari smacked the arrows away with his fan in dancing strikes and curves. The musketeers shot, and blood rained from Mitsunari as holes opened all over his body.

 

“TOKUGAWA!” yelled Mitsunari, leaping from his horse and sweeping soldiers away with his fan.

 

“Shoot him,” said Tokugawa to the man beside him. Hideyori didn’t hear the man’s reply, only saw Mitsunari’s adrenaline-fuelled rush across the remaining space to Tokugawa.

 

A gunshot. Mitsunari went down and was swarmed by a sea of blue soldiers.

 

Hideyori, finding the voice that wouldn’t come during the dream, screamed at the top of his lungs as he woke. The room was dark. The floorboards beneath the futon were cold. The door almost smashed off its hinges as the guards ripped it open, spears at the ready.

 

“Lord Hideyori, are you alright?” asked a female guard.

 

Hideyori was curled in a ball, body in a cold sweat, breathing hard.

 

“Lord Hideyori,” said one of the guards, coming closer, but before she could get any closer, a woman came running down the wood walkway outside Hideyori’s room and skidded to a stop outside the door. Hideyori pushed himself up on shaking arms, breathing steadying.

 

_Just a dream, just a dream._

Lady Kai, who was protecting him in Mitsunari’s place until – _until, not if_ – he returned from the Battle of Sekigahara, stood in the doorway, a letter in hand. She wore black overlayed with a red tunic, hair tied in its usual giant swirling ponytail.

 

“Lord Hideyori, there’s news from Sekigahara,” said Lady Kai.

 

“What’s the news?” asked Hideyori, dizzy with fear.

 

“The Mountain Squadron isn’t moving.”

 

 _Not a dream. A vision of the future._ Hideyori glanced outside. It was dawn. The dawn of Sekigahara. The battle was starting now. Yoshitsugu hadn’t died yet. His dearest Mitsunari hadn’t died yet.

 

But they would if he didn’t do something _now_.

 

**~~~~~~**

**Glossary:**

**Feudal Lord:** A person of the highest rank who possessed land and retainers.

**Samurai:** The warrior class of feudal Japan. Recognisable by their swords, used to stab unruly peasants, as well as enemies attempting to besiege their lands and castles. Not to be confused with foot-soldiers.

 

 **Retainer:** A samurai who served a feudal lord. While they may have lands and people of their own, a retainer would be expected to report and answer to their liege, and provide armed forces in times of conflict. They sometimes lived at their lord’s residences and acted as political allies, close confidants, advisors, and bodyguards. In this fic, Mitsunari and Yoshitsugu are a couple of Lord Hideyori’s retainers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 – Mitsunari Returns**

Mitsunari patted his horse’s neck from the saddle and mentally prepared himself to die. Yoshitsugu was dead. The soldiers were crowding him. He was prepared. He would announce his charge toward Tokugawa. He would kill the bastard then die from his wounds. For Lord Hideyori, he would die.

 

“Lord Mitsunari!” A woman was riding at top speed toward Mitsunari. Her face was covered in sweat. She reached Mitsunari and yanked her horse to a stop. “A letter has arrived,” she said, holding out a piece of white paper inscribed with elegant black characters.

 

“A letter from whom?” asked Mitsunari.

 

“Lord Hideyori, sir.”

 

Mitsunari’s face paled and he took the letter. It read thus:

 

_Dearest Mitsunari,_

_I know of your situation. I know what you’re planning to do. Read closely._

_DO NOT ADVANCE TOWARD IEYASU TOKUGAWA._

_You cannot win this battle. Have all troops retreat to Osaka immediately. Do not try to be a hero._

_Mitsunari, you are precious to me. Come home safely._

_Sincerely,_

_Hideyori Toyotomi_

_Great Lord of Osaka_

 

The letter shook in Mitsunari’s hands as he read it over and over. He wasn’t sure which part to process first: that Lord Hideyori knew what had transpired on the battlefield hours before it had happened, that he seemingly knew what Mitsunari would do _,_ or that Lord Hideyori considered him… _precious_. That was surely due to a mistake with the inkbrush when writing the character – not that Lord Hideyori would ever make a mistake. Perhaps he meant valuable in a military sense. Yes, that was it.

 

He pinched the top of the paper with the thumb and forefingers of both hands, as if to rip it. His hands shook. Such an act would surely be the highest form of sacrilege. He sighed and his body slumped.

 

“Sound the horn to retreat!” yelled Mitsunari, snapping his war-fan closed and sheathing it on his back in one fluid motion. “We are retreating to Osaka!”

 

***

 

It was sunset. Hideyori rounded the corner to Osaka Castle’s front courtyard.

 

“My Lord, please wait!” called Lady Kai, high swirly ponytail in place. Hideyori paid no heed to his bodyguard, running out into the courtyard. Since his hurried letter that morning, he’d changed into a black kimono _,_ overlayed with a yellow sleeveless tunic and purple _hakama_ (flared pleated trousers). Rank after rank of soldiers filed through Osaka’s gates. All were covered in blood. Many were lost, cut down in the retreat.

 

The left side of the courtyard quickly became the infirmary, a dozen healers rushing out with stretchers. The right side was slowly being lined with bodies, over which people were pulling white sheets and crying. He ran along the line of dead bodies, hoping, hoping, hoping. He caught sight of a familiar white-robed form and at first refused to believe. No. Oh god, he had been too late.

 

He stood stiffly looking down at the man, whose face was obscured by his high collar. “Yoshitsugu,” he whispered. Yoshitsugu had been one of his most loyal retainers.

 

Hideyori’s vision blurred with tears. The world began to tilt.

 

Lady Kai ran up behind him. “Please come away, My Lord.”

 

Hideyori tried to blink away the tears. He had to stay strong. “Where’s Mitsunari?” he said to Lady Kai. He took Lady Kai by the forearms. “ _Where’s Mitsunari?_ ” A tear rolled down his cheek. “I need Mitsunari.” _God, please don’t let him be…_

 

“Lord Hideyori.” A castle guard ran up to them and bowed before Hideyori. “Lord Mitsunari awaits you in the Audience Chamber.”

 

Hideyori blinked as a boulder-sized weight lifted from his chest. He felt faint at the relief and sagged.

 

Mitsunari’s alive. _Mitsunari’s alive._

He sprinted, purple _hakama_ flapping around his legs. He automatically headed for the door that opened onto the dais in the Audience Chamber, rather than the main door, which was closer. No amount of longing could replace a lifetime of habit.

 

He slid back the door.

 

***

 

Mitsunari sat on his heels on the Audience Chamber floor facing the dais, which held the empty seat of honour. Everything in the room was beautiful, from the art on the walls to the patterns on the screen doors. Mitsunari took in none of it.

 

Usually, there would be six retainers kneeling below the dais, three on each side of the seat of honour facing each other. Their absence made Mitsunari wince. All dead or traitors. The thought tore him apart.

 

The door behind the dais clacked open. Lord Hideyori stepped out in all his golden radiance, long brown ponytail perfectly in place. Mitsunari stopped breathing for a few seconds, staring up at his Lord with wide eyes. Then he pitched his body forward and pressed his forehead to the reed matting. Red hair fell around his face.

 

“Lord Hideyori,” he choked, and cried into the floor. “What I’ve done is unforgiveable.”

 

“Mitsunari.” footsteps told him his Lord had moved to the edge of the dais. “Sit up.”

 

Mitsunari sat up and bowed his head, tears streaming silently down his cheeks and dripping onto the matting. “I failed you, My Lord. Please – I beg you – allow me to pay the ultimate price for this crime.”

 

Mitsunari’s hand went to his scabbard, but didn’t dare draw his sword without his Lord’s permission. After a few seconds, Mitsunari dared to look his Lord in the eyes – red, as if he’d been up since dawn or crying, or both.

 

“Are you really that selfish, Mitsunari? Are you really that _blind_?” This was the most sadness he’d ever heard from Lord Hideyori.

 

“My Lord?”

 

“Look around you. Do you see anyone else here? Every retainer who would sit in this room has either turned their back on me or is lying dead in a field.” Hideyori’s voice cracked as if he was about to cry, but he didn’t. He stepped off the dais. “You would truly leave me with no one and nothing? Leave our enemies to overrun Osaka and take my head?”

 

A wave of guilt overtook Mitsunari’s shame and he pressed his forehead to the floor, harder this time. “Please forgive my selfishness, Lord Hideyori. I swear I will live to do everything in my power to atone for my failure.”

 

“Mitsunari.” Hideyori’s voice was unimaginably kind as he walked up to his retainer. “Look at me.”

 

Mitsunari raised his head. His Lord reached out and grasped one of the horns on his headband. He gently eased Mitsunari’s head and body back until they were eye-to-eye. Hideyori had to bend slightly. Mitsunari found himself staring into a pair of burning brown eyes.

 

“ _You are here._ You alone did not desert me. You alone did not allow yourself to be killed. You did not fail me, Mitsunari. You exceeded my wildest expectations.”

 

Mitsunari sobbed. “I am not worthy of such words,” he said, and suddenly a great weight slammed into his chest and arms were thrown around his neck and his Lord was crashing to his knees and weeping into his retainer’s shoulder armour. His brain short-circuited. Lord Hideyori was touching him. _Lord Hideyori was touching him._ Mitsunari held his arms limply by his sides – he wouldn’t dare touch or hug back without permission – surely that was one of the greatest of sins.

 

“ _Mitsunari, you idiot._ You were going to die for me.”

 

“I would die for you a hundred times over, My Lord.”

 

Hideyori detached himself from Mitsunari and stood, cheek and clothes now smeared with blood. Mitsunari berated himself. He should have washed before he came.

 

“ _Ishida_ ,” said the brunet. Mitsunari’s stomach dropped – his Lord only ever used his surname when he was displeased. “You’re not allowed to die on me, understand?”

 

The red-haired man – tears finally stopped – answered clearly. “Yes, My Lord.”

 

“Good.” The sun had set and servants had lit the wall lamps, sending flickering shadows over Lord Hideyori. The brunet stepped back onto the dais, turned his blood-streaked cheek to his retainer and smiled. “After all, how will I crush Tokugawa without you?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated very much!


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 – Rose Garden Filled with Thorns**

The Afternoon after Sekigahara

Hideyori bent down to sniff a rose in the garden. Taking deep breaths, he tried to ignore all things that needed doing.

 

  * Organise the garrison
  * Send letters requesting aid to his allies
  * Organise funeral rites for his dead retainers
  * Compensation for the families of the dead
  * Send out reconnaissance to find his enemy’s location and plans



 

With the death of all but one of his retainers, these responsibilities fell onto him.

 

Reconnaissance was difficult. Ninja were tied to their masters, and the ninja that had served his father were long gone. Hideyori frowned over a bright pink rose. If he didn’t act, the people he had left would surely desert him.

 

“My Lord,” a voice broke him from his thoughts, “Are you alright? You look distressed.”

 

“Do I now?” said Hideyori to Mitsunari, who was now clean and wearing a black shirt that didn’t quite hide his arm muscles. Hideyori looked him up and down and smirked. “Nice _hakama_ (flared pleated trousers).”

 

Mitsunari crossed his arms. “My Lord, are you trying to change the subject?”

 

“They match your hair.” Bright red.

 

“ _Lord._ ” Exasperated.

 

“ _Yes,_ _Ishida_ , I’m stressed.”

 

Mitsunari frowned and looked away at Hideyori’s use of his surname. “Would you allow me to shoulder some of your burden, Lord? I can handle the garrison and administrative duties.”

 

Hideyori stroked the petal of a rose with his thumb. “No.”

 

The red-haired man kept his eyes on the grass.

 

“Wait. I’ll handle letters to allies and such. You handle the garrison – I’m not good with fighting and soldiers – in fact, I’m appointing you leader of the garrison and armed forces. It should be easier now we’ve wormed out the traitors. Hopefully. Stay on alert.”

 

“Always,” said Mitsunari.

 

“Good. You do the stabbing, I’ll do the writing. Oh, has there been word of Sakon?” Sakon was one of Hideyori’s retainers who had fought at Sekigahara. His body hadn’t returned the previous day. Hideyori hoped he hadn’t been cut down.

 

Mitsunari frowned. “I’m afraid not. But he’s smart, he may have escaped the battlefield… My Lord… speaking of the battle, should we perhaps be preparing for siege?”

 

Hideyori stroked the petal again. “Tokugawa won’t attack Osaka right away. He planned Sekigahara to decimate our army. Our retreat means we’re now more defended than he’d hoped. He doesn’t have the numbers. The cur will probably try something devious instead.”

 

Mitsunari looked up, stunned at the assessment.

 

“I relate to these roses, Mitsunari,” said Hideyori. Hideyori sent his retainer a smile. If the velvet curtain of that smile was pulled away, Mitsunari was sure there would be a sharpened blade beneath.

 

“How so, My Lord?”

 

“Pick that one.” Hideyori indicated a yellow rose to the redhead’s side.

 

Mitsunari didn’t hesitate to obey the command. He curled his fingers around the stalk. “Ah!” He rescinded his finger sharply, a rivulet of blood running down.

 

“I will not be plucked from the branch of my fate.”

 

“Lord Hideyori!” Lady Kai ran up to the pair and panted. “There’s an envoy at the gate from Tokugawa.”

 

“Who is it?”

 

“It’s Nobuyuki Sanada.”

 

***

 

Hideyori slid back the Audience Chamber door. Inside Lady Kai and Mitsunari knelt facing each other below the dais – Mitsunari on the right, Lady Kai on the left. Between them knelt Tokugawa’s envoy – a man in his twenties with silver hair held back in a gold clip inscribed with six coins, the symbol of the House of Sanada. The Sanada had served Hideyori’s father, but this man had sided against him at Sekigahara. Yet another traitor to the House of Toyotomi.

 

“Six coins at the ready, Sanada?” said Hideyori, sitting cross-legged in the seat of honour – a cushion on the floor with low armrests. Once he would have used the man’s first name, but it didn’t seem appropriate anymore.

 

“Lord Hideyori.” Envoys weren’t required to bow to the floor, but Sanada did anyway.

 

Hideyori rested his arm on the low armrest and propped his chin on his fist. “Sit up. Speak.”  


“I bring a message from Lord Tokugawa.”

 

“ _You dare call him your Lord?_ You dare show your face here after what you’ve done?” spat Mitsunari.

 

“Mitsunari,” said Hideyori, and Mitsunari immediately quietened, seething into his lap.

 

Sanada swallowed. “He requests a meeting at Nijo Castle in Kyoto to discuss the nature of your current situation. And there’s something else...” The man paused, as if debating whether to continue. “Sakon Shima was captured after the battle. He’s being held in the Tokugawa camp.”

 

Hideyori clenched the fist beneath his chin. He didn’t have enough retainers to manage Osaka Castle and provide a sufficient escort to Kyoto. Escorts alone usually made up at least six retainers – Hideyori had two. He needed time to get letters requesting aid to his allies.

 

And Sakon… The cogs in Hideyori’s brain turned… If his enemy had Sakon, there was a good chance he’d be bought to Nijo castle as leverage. Hideyori could rescue him…

 

But he needed more time…

 

“You were close with Yoshitsugu, were you not, Sanada?” asked Hideyori, remembering the man with the cat ear-like hat and robe collar that always covered his face.

 

His enemy frowned. “I was. How does he fare?”

 

“He is dead. At the hands of your master,” said Hideyori.

 

Sanada squeezed his eyes shut.

 

“The funeral rites will be held the night after tomorrow. Stay for them. You will have you’re answer afterwards.”

 

The silver-haired man frowned at the reed matting. Envoys were supposed to collect their answer immediately and depart. Hideyori’s proposition broke protocol.

 

Mitsunari was unable to hold back – he’d also been close with Yoshitsugu. “My Lord, surely this traitor’s presence would desecrate Yoshitsugu’s funeral.”

 

Hideyori sighed at his retainer’s obliviousness. Hideyori locked eyes with Mitsunari. How could he make him understand? No, he didn’t have to. “No matter their side in this feud, I will not deny someone the right to their friend’s funeral. Will you contradict my decision, _Ishida_?” Hideyori hated having to beset his most trusted retainer.

 

You could have cut the tension in the air with a chopstick. The use of Mitsunari’s surname hung between them, and the redhead paled and bowed deeply. “No, My Lord.”

 

“Good. We’re done here.” Hideyori stood, realising he’d hurt Mitsunari, and felt like ripping his heart from his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think in a comment, or leave kudos if you like! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4 – Yukimura Arrives**

 

1 day after Sekigahara

 

Osaka Castle had two gates, separated by a moat and drawbridge. Mitsunari walked across the bridge with the Garrison Deputy. Lady Naomi was in her twenties with blonde hair tied up in a severe bun. She was giving a rundown of guard rotations to Mitsunari. As they approached the Outer Gate, they noticed an argument between the guards posted there and some men outside the gate.

 

“We have orders not to let anyone through the gates,” said one of the guards. The red-haired man didn’t hear the outsider’s response.

 

The guard laughed. “Yukimura Sanada? Sure you are – only the ninth one today.”

 

Lady Naomi drew her sword. “How troublesome. I’ll be glad when they announce Yukimura’s death just to stop these impersonators.”

 

Yukimura Sanada had fought for Lord Hideyori at Sekigahara, but had been captured by Tokugawa’s forces in his escape. His brother was the silver-haired Nobuyuki Sanada, who was currently staying at the castle for the funeral the next evening.

 

There seemed to be an endless supply of people coming to the gates claiming to be Yukimura. Mitsunari had been called to gate eight times in the past day to ascertain the truthfulness of these claims – he’d fought with Yukimura before. He’d given up hope after the fifth impersonator. Mitsunari drew the war-fan from his back. “Let’s chase them off and be done with this.”

 

Lady Naomi and Mitsunari jogged across the bridge. A few metres away, the argument had turned heated. A giant man who was _definitely not_ Yukimura Sanada grabbed a guard by the shirt collar and threw him bodily toward Mitsunari. The guard looked up at Mitsunari from his back and coughed, winded. “Captain.”

 

The remaining guards were crowding the man. More were trying to close the gate. “Get out of the way! This is the real Yukimura! Don’t make me kick you!” the giant man bellowed. The giant gestured to someone hidden behind the guards.

 

Closer now, Mitsunari saw the thick-set man had yellow hair that fluffed around his head in all directions. He had red paint around the eyes and temples.

 

“We have no need for more Yukimuras!” yelled Mitsunari, “Leave now or be forcefully removed!”

 

“Will no one in this godforsaken castle listen?” bellowed the man. “Get your dinky little spear out of my face or _I will_ _punch you_!”

 

“This is your last chance,” said Lady Naomi. She didn’t have to yell, but her stern voice carried.

 

The spear moved closer to the giant man’s nose. He drew back a giant fist and punched the guard in a face. “How do you like that!”

 

Mitsunari snapped open his war-fan. “I’m not losing guards to that monstrosity. Close the gate!”

 

The gate began to slowly move inward. Mitsunari threw his war-fan boomerang-style at the man, which smashed on his chest and backed him up multiple steps before spinning back to its owner.

 

“A fan!” said the man hidden behind the guards next to the giant. “MITSUNARI!” he yelled, “MITSUNARI ISHIDA!”

 

Mitsunari froze mid-fan-swing. That sounded like…

 

Guards were scrambling inside the closing gate doors, leaving a clear view of the man beside the giant. Yukimura’s face lit up when he saw Mitsunari, right as the door closed in his face with a _crash_.

 

***

 

“Yukimura Sanada,” said Mitsunari, who was walking along one of the castle’s wooden walkways, “you have no idea how valued your presence here is.” He glanced back at the giant of a man with spiky yellow hair walking behind them, who had travelled with Yukimura to Osaka. “And Keiji, sorry about the reception – we’ve been getting a lot of fake Yukimura’s recently. Though you could have been a little gentler with my men.”

 

Keiji laughed raucously. “What do you expect when the great Keiji gets a face full of spears?”

 

“Even so, if you’re going to stay I’d appreciate you not roughing up the guard detail.”

 

“Yeah yeah, just so long as they don’t get in my way,” said Keiji.

 

Mitsunari shook his head and turned his attention to Yukimura. “Why have you come here, Yukimura? Do you intend to join Lord Hideyori?”

 

“Of course! I fought for the Toyotomi as Sekigahara. Just because my brother’s joined the enemy doesn’t mean I’ll follow.”

 

The Garrison Captain was glad they shared a mutual enemy.  “If you’re going to join, you’ll have to pledge to Lord Hideyori properly. We’re desperately low on support. We may have fought on the same side at Sekigahara, but you’re not officially Lord Hideyori’s retainer yet.” He stopped walking and looked Yukimura in the eye. “Are you sure you’re willing to publicly renounce your brother?”

 

“I am.”

 

Mitsunari nodded. “And you, Keiji?”

 

The ronin grinned manically. “Just show me who’s head to smash. I hate the bastard Tokugawa. I’ll pledge to your little lordling if I have to. Later. Right now, I could use some _sake_ (rice wine).”

 

Mitsunari frowned at the use of “little lordling” but let it slide – they had bigger problems. “Thank you both for this. I know Lord Hideyori will come out of this victorious. I have every faith in him,” said Mitsunari.

 

“I know,” said Yukimura.

 

“And yes, Keiji, you can have _sake_. The kitchens are that way.” Mitsunari gestured.

 

“Sweet, see ya’,” said Keiji and walked down the indicated corridor.

 

Mitsunari shook his head and turned to Yukimura. “I’ll take you to Lord Hideyori now.” Mitsunari headed toward a flower arbour – the entrance to a garden.

 

***

 

Hideyori stood at the apex of a small bridge overlooking a river in his garden. Two fish splashed in the water below, swimming circles around each other. Hideyori smiled.

 

“You wished to see me, Lord Hideyori?” said an approaching voice.

 

Hideyori glanced over at his silver-haired enemy, Nobuyuki Sanada, and his smile widened. Sanada took a step back and bowed, though envoys were not required to do so. He had done similar in the Audience Chamber. These gestures interested Hideyori – the man acted like his retainer rather than an enemy.

 

“You bow to me, Sanada, though you side with my enemy. I wish to speak with you about your motives.”

 

“What do you wish to know?”

 

“ _Why?_ ” said Hideyori, “Why do you follow him? What is it about me that repulses you so?”

 

Sanada crossed his arms. “I assure you, Lord Hideyori, it is not a flaw in you that guides me.”

 

“Then, pray tell, what does?”

 

“I seek only the protection and continuation of the House of Sanada and my people.” This was what Hideyori had wanted to hear, what he had prepared for, the reason he had called this meeting.

 

“And you believe I cannot give you that. That Tokugawa is stronger and thus provides your House and your people better protection. You believe he will win and I will lose.”

 

Sanada was silent.

 

“Come closer, Sanada.” When his enemy had mounted the bridge, Hideyori continued. “This feud caused a siege at your home at Ueda Castle. It cut off trade routes at Ueda, causing your people to go hungry, did it not? Cannon fire on the castle also destroyed multiple homes. If my disputes with Tokugawa didn’t exist, this never would have happened.” Then Hideyori made a most unorthodox and quite socially unacceptable gesture – he bowed to Nobuyuki. “I greatly apologise for the consequences of this feud.”

 

Sanada took a step back, perplexed. Whatever he’d been expecting, this hadn’t been it. “It’s not your fau – I – that is – all feuds are bound to have some people caught up in the fighting.”

 

Hideyori’s eyes blazed brown fire. “I will not allow it. Any disputes will be settled between Tokugawa and myself. I dislike having good people caught in the middle.” Hideyori handed the silver-haired man a scroll tied in yellow ribbon. “These are the details of the supplies I’ve sent to Ueda today. Food, water, blankets, tents and so forth. Has Tokugawa done the same?”

 

Sanada took the scroll and stared down at if it contained the answers to the secrets of the universe. Hideyori continued. “It also contains the protections your House will acquire when I win. Although you stood against me at Sekigahara, I will not bring reckoning upon your House. That is, if you choose to side with me now.”

 

There it was. This was why Hideyori had called the meeting. “You say you will not punish my House if I join you. And if I do not?” asked Nobuyuki.

 

“Then I will be forced to treat you as my enemy. I do not wish to take your head or the heads of your retainers, but it will not be possible to pardon your House if you stand against me.”

 

Sanada looked conflicted. “And what of my brother? He stood with you at Sekigahara.”

 

“Yukimura does not lead the House of Sanada.”

 

“And my people? What will become of them if I do not join you?”

 

“I will protect your people no matter your choice.”

 

Sanada looked on the verge of tears.

 

“Nobuyuki,” said Hideyori, and the man jumped at the use of his given name – a sign of trust and respect never afforded to enemies. “Think about it.”

 

“My Lord,” said a new voice from the bottom of the bridge, “you have guests.”

 

Hideyori schooled his face into a mask of happiness and turned to Mitsunari. “And who is it?”

 

The man behind Mitsunari stepped out into clear view.

 

“Hello, brother,” said Sanada.

 

“Brother,” said Yukimura, surprised.

 

Sanada’s silver hair flew in the wind on his place beside Hideyori atop the bridge. He looked down at his brother with eyes that spoke of a broken heart.

 

“Why are you here, brother?” asked Yukimura. “Have you chosen to side with Lord Hideyori after all? Have you given up your notions of rebellion?” His voice was full of hope.

 

“I’m an envoy.”

 

Yukimira’s face fell. “No. You’re a coward.”

 

“Yukimura, please,” said Hideyori.

 

“What do you know?” Sanada raised his voice at his red-clad brother. “You do not have the lives of thousands of people to protect, little brother! You know nothing of my plight! You have no right to question my actions!”

 

“What I _know_ is that you’re hiding behind a traitor and a murderer to suit your own ends!”

 

“Are we not all murderers, brother?”

 

“At least _I’m_ not trying to murder my own Lord! At least I didn’t side with the enemy and betray my own family!” Yukimura half-drew his spear from his back.

 

Sanada curled his fingers around the hilt of the sword at his hip. “If it’s a fight you want –”

 

“ _Enough_.” Hideyori’s voice almost shook the ground. His eyes burned with righteous indignation. The two brothers stumbled back a few paces. “That’s enough! I won’t have you brawling in my castle like barbarians and getting blood all over my garden. Yukimura, it’s disgraceful to needle your brother and try to start a fight before your Lord. Or did you forget I was here? Get over yourselves or _so help me_ I will forcibly eject you both from my castle!”

 

Both brothers bowed their heads. Hideyori stalked off the bridge and past Yukimura, then turned back. “Sort out your differences now. Mitsunari, if even one of them draws a weapon, escort them both out.”

 

Mitsunari bowed. “Yes, My Lord.”

 

Hideyori stalked off.

 

***

 

Hideyori knelt behind a low table, drawing elegant black strokes on a white piece of paper – a letter to one of his neighbouring allies. Suddenly, he gripped the inkbrush hard and launched it at the opposite wall, where it crashed and splattered ink. Hideyori held his head in his hands. He was a fool – a complete and utter fool.

 

He’d been too harsh. Yukimura had been the first and only person to come to his aid since Sekigahara, and he’d just yelled at him and called him a disgrace. He’d alienated one of the few people still on his side. He was the disgrace, he thought. He felt tears prick to his eyes and desperately blinked them back. What if they turned on each other with weapons in the garden – he had no doubt Mitsunari would follow his orders and have them expelled. That would mean exiling an ally and throwing out an enemy envoy without response, which was basically a declaration of all-out war, which he really didn’t want to be declaring right now, especially when he was so undefended.

 

God, he was so stupid. He went to get up to somehow salvage the situation, when Mitsunari’s voice called from outside the screen door.

 

“Lord Hideyori, Yukimura’s here. He wishes to see you. I can send him away if you wish.”

 

Hideyori got up. “Please wait a moment.” He crossed the room, picked up the fallen brush and returned it to his inkpot. The he rolled up the letter he’d been writing and tucked it under the table. The young Lord readied himself to apologise.

 

“Send him in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leaving a comment would absolutely make my day :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 - Fealty**

 

Hideyori clenched his fists on his knees. He valued Yukimura’s support and would beg the man’s forgiveness if he had to.

 

The door opened and Yukimura walked in and knelt before the low table. Then he placed his hands on the floor before him and bowed his head to the floor. “Lord Hideyori, I acted disgracefully before you. I dishonour my myself and my House. I can only beg your forgiveness. Please – I beg you – allow me to serve you as your retainer and show you my worth. Even if that is just another body to throw between yourself and Tokugawa.” Was Yukimura trembling? Surely not.

 

“I know your worth, Yukimura. Sit up,” said Hideyori gently, letting out a pent-up breath.

 

Yukimura did so and Hideyori placed his hands on his knees and bowed his head, not low, but still too low to be socially acceptable for a Lord. “I ask your forgiveness too, Yukimura. I was needlessly harsh. I would be grateful to accept your fealty for as long as you wish to give it.”

 

Yukimura was so stunned his eyes widened and he tensed. “It has no end date, Lord. And you were perfectly within your rights to scold me.”

 

“Maybe so, but I shouldn’t have – you’re the first who’s come to pledge to me since Sekigahara. I don’t want to be a tyrant to my retainers.”

 

“I assure you, My Lord, _you_ are not the tyrant.” The red-clad man looked troubled and clenched his fist on his pants. “I know this is premature, but I have a request to make.”

 

“Speak. Please.”

 

Yukimura dropped his head to the floor again. “Please spare my brother from your wrath.” Wait, hadn’t Yukimura been calling his silver-haired brother names less than an hour ago? Why would he be begging for pardon now? “I love my brother despite what he’s done. He’s a good man who only wants the best for his people – I was too caught up in my own pride to realise that. Please, My Lord, please don’t have him punished. I started the fight, punish me instead.”

 

“Yukimura, I’m not punishing _anyone_ ,” said Hideyori gently. Yukimura looked up, not yet given permission to rise. “And as for your brother: I am doing everything in my power to convince him to turn back, but the decision lies with him. I cannot force his hand. Rise.”

 

“Thank you,” said Yukimura in a very formal register. “And if he continues to side against you, what will you do, My Lord, after you win?”

 

Hideyori looked away. “I would be forced to execute him, though I do not wish to do so. We can only hope he comes around. Perhaps you could talk to him some more.”

 

“Yes, My Lord.”

 

“Lord Hideyori, there are people at the gates,” said Lady Kai from outside the door.

 

The young Lord sighed. “More people pretending to be Yukimura?” At least now that the real Yukimura was here, they could officially announce it and finally see an end to the frauds.

 

“Not so, My Lord. It’s two of Tokugawa’s retainers. They say they wish to defect, but it may be a plot to get inside the castle.”

 

“I’ll handle it,” said Hideyori and rose to his feet. “Yukimura, would you please come with me to the Audience Chamber? I could do with some more retainers – we look pitiful.” The young Lord smiled self-deprecatingly.

 

“Of course, My Lord.” Yukimura got up.

 

Hideyori was not looking forward to what was to come – he could not forgive these men as easily as he had Yukimura. They had sided against him at Sekigahara and had no honourable reasons like Nobuyuki. They also didn’t have the diplomatic protections that envoys enjoyed. Hideyori knew his retainers would bay for their blood, and he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to turn the situation to his favour without offending them. If he was soft – if they despaired of him as a leader – he would surely be left with no one and nothing

 

***

 

On his way to the Audience Chamber, Hideyori stopped dead at the edge of a grassy square near the north wing of his casle. A giant of a man with spiky yellow hair that stuck up in all directions held one of his castle guards by the neck of the kimono, raising him off his feet and onto his toe tips. “What do you mean, _you don’t know_?” growled the man into the guard’s face. “ _Where is Yukimura?_ ”

 

“Please,” said the guard, “I don’t know where he–” The guard cut off as the man drew back a fist. “Wait!”

 

Hideyori glanced at Yukimura, who looked pale, then even paler at the look in Hideyori’s eyes. The young Lord turned to the giant warrior. He had some time – the supposed “Tokugawa defectors” at the gate could wait a few minutes. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” he asked in a deceptively sweet voice.

 

The yellow-haired man dropped the guard, who scuttled away, and turned to Hideyori. “Name’s Keiji. Keiji Maeda. I came with Yukimura. And who might you be, little boy?” The giant looked predatory.

 

Hideyori was miffed – he was eighteen, far from a “little boy”, though he supposed everyone looked little to this man. Yukimura looked incensed and opened his mouth to say something, but Hideyori stopped him with a gesture and stepped forward.

 

“My name is Hideyori Toyotomi, Great Lord of Osaka. You were going to punch one of my guards. I cannot allow that.”

 

The man crossed his giant muscly arms. “Oooo, Great Lord of Osaka, _I’m so_ _afraid_ ,” said Keiji, who was obviously not afraid. Hideyori bristled at the man’s rudeness, then a voice at the back of his mind said this man could be an asset. He was strong, that much was obvious, he would be good on the battlefield and to intimidate his enemies. But could he be turned?

 

“I thought you’d be bigger… and older…” said Keiji.

 

Hideyori felt the distinct urge to hit the man over the head with a large sword. Wait… that might not be a bad idea. Keiji looked like someone who would respond to strength. Hideyori felt the familiar fog of a plan forming in his mind.

 

“ _Keiji-_ ,” started Yukimura angrily.

 

“It’s alright, Yukimura.” Hideyori stepped forward again. “Draw your weapon, Keiji Maeda.”

 

Keiji raised a thick yellow eyebrow like a caterpillar. “I don’t want to hurt you, little lordling.”

 

Hideyori bit back a retort at the nickname, fury growing. He slid the longer of his two swords from the sheath at his hip with a rasp. He drew his swords so little most people forgot he even wore them. “Draw your weapon. I have a deal to make with you.”

 

“Oh? And what might that be?” asked Keiji.

 

“We duel. One on one. Right now. First to knock the other down wins. If I lose, I’ll let you punch as many of my guards as you like.” Hideyori paused for dramatic effect, trying to prompt a question.

 

“And if you win?” asked Keiji.

 

Bingo. “Then you will swear fealty to me as my retainer.” Hideyori couldn’t believe his own daring – he was operating on pure righteous adrenaline. Keiji might not have been his first pick for a retainer – the man was too big and smelly for his liking, but he didn’t have much choice.

 

“My Lord, you don’t have to do this,” said Yukimura.

 

Hideyori ginned at him. “It’s alright, Yukimura,” he said, then under his breath, “don’t interfere, okay?”

 

Yukimura frowned but nodded. Keiji laughed raucously. “Sorry to burst your bubble, kid, but I don’t like your odds. Plus, from the look Yukimura’s giving me, I think he’d try to chop my head off when I win.”

 

“You will not win,” said Hideyori, trying to goad him.

 

“Yes, I would.”

 

Hideyori arced his sword through the air so fast neither of the other men had noticed it before Keiji was crying out and grabbing at his arm and the tiny, tiny trickle of blood running down it. “ _Draw your weapon._ ”

 

Keiji growled and drew his weapon – a pole with two spear heads arcing out of one end. “Fine, you have your deal, you little shit. Just don’t blame me when you lose.”

 

Hideyori, ignoring how obviously incensed Yukimura was behind him at the insult, stepped back half a step from the giant’s massive swing as it whistled before his face. “Seems I’ll have to teach you some manners.” Then with the giant’s momentum throwing him off balance, Hideyori stepped inside his guard and whipped his sword up, slicing a vertical cut on his enemy’s face before sidestepping out of range of the spear.

 

Keiji rounded on him, but Hideyori ducked under the spear thrust and darted forward again, this time slicing a tiny cut along the man’s belly, before once again sidestepping under the man’s arm and out of the way. It all happened so fast, Keiji couldn’t keep up. It continued in this vein – everything Keiji tried to do, he found a slip of a teenager darting or ducking away from before administering tiny, tiny, cuts, not much worse than papercuts. He didn’t touch the boy once. Thrust – slice. Swing – slice. “Slippery little shit,” he breathed, before Hideyori slipped behind him and brought his leg up to thrust his lower leg out and connect his foot directly with Keiji’s ass.

 

“Argh!” Keiji stumbled forward a few steps and only just kept his balance, then turned around murderously. He was now bleeding from multiple tiny wounds.

 

Hideyori held his bloodstained blade in one hand, out to the side and pointed down. A drop of blood fell from the tip and into the grass. “Ready to concede?” he asked sweetly.

 

“Never!” growled Keiji and lunged at Hideyori. A few more rounds and whistling slices later, Keiji was doubled over and panting. Hideyori stood to the side with one arm behind his back and the sword pointed again diagonally at the ground. He hadn’t yet broken a sweat.

 

“Perhaps beg my forgiveness and I’ll spare you,” said Hideyori.

 

Keiji spat blood onto the grass. “I don’t think so. You ‘aint won ‘till you knocked me down.”

 

“Very true,” said Hideyori, and as the spear swung at him, he stood stock still, and swung his word up one-handed to meet it. They connected with a _clash,_ then to Keiji’s widened eyes, Hideyori darted his sword along the length of the spear, lunging inwards with his body, and sliced his sword across Keiji’s hand.

 

“Argh!” Keiji dropped the spear as Hideyori brought his leg up again and kicked him square in the chest, sending the giant falling backwards and onto his back.

 

Hideyori levelled his sword at the man’s throat, the tip a centimetre away. “Yield. _Now._ ”

 

“I yield,” said Keiji. The sword drew away and he pushed himself up with his arms. He looked at Hideyori cautiously, who wiped and sheathed his sword. It was like the man was seeing him in a new light. Hideyori didn’t have a single brown hair of his ponytail out of place, nor a single thread of his sleeveless yellow tunic. “Does this fealty thing come with free _sake_?” he asked.

 

Hideyori laughed with a bell-like cadence. “Yes, it does. But it also comes with conditions.”

 

“And what are they?”

 

“Firstly, you will address me properly. If you call me a child again, I will be very displeased. Secondly, you will follow my orders exactly, even when you don’t agree with them. And most importantly, you will not harm any of my guards or staff or people again. _Is that clear_?”

 

Keiji narrowed his eyes. “Yes.”

 

“Yes _what_?”

 

“Yes, My Lord.”

 

“Good.” Hideyori turned and walked out of the grassy square. “Come on, both of you. We’re going to sort out some traitors.”

 

“Yes, My Lord,” said Yukimura, who had been too flabbergasted by the whole display to say or do anything the entire time.

 

“You will respond when I give an order, Maeda,” said Hideyori.

 

“Yes, My Lord,” said Keiji, who rose fully and followed Hideyori out of the square, wondering how the boy he’d thought was a milksop had so thoroughly crushed him beneath his heel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Questions, comments, feedback, fears, concerns, or anxieties? Comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated!  
> :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hideyori had felt fire in his heart before, but never like this.

**Chapter 6 – Fiery Resolve**

 

Hideyori sat cross-legged in the seat of honour and propped his chin on a fist that rested on the low armrest. “Kiyomasa. Masanori.” He addressed the two men kneeling before him. Lady Kai and Keiji knelt on his left below the dais, Mitsunari and Yukimura on his right. “Pray enlighten me, why should I not have you executed where you kneel?”

 

His retainers looked pale – they’d known these men, they had all served together under Hideyori’s father.

 

Kiyomasa had silver hair like the older Sanada brother, however that was where the resemblance ended – where Nobuyuki’s hair was long and tied with the Sanada-crest bow clip, Kiyomasa’s was short and choppy. Where Nobuyuki was pale, Kiyomasa was brown.

 

Masanori was the only one in the room with black hair, fluffed around his head and hanging just below his ears, which Hideyori had an unimpeded view of as both men were prostrated with their foreheads to the floor.

 

“Speak, Kiyomasa.” Hideyori’s voice was soft but held unmissable poison.

 

 “Lord Hideyori,” he rasped, throat dry, “we have no right to be in your presence.”

 

“That is correct.”

 

“You could have us cut down at any moment,” said Kiyomasa.

 

“I am glad you see the situation clearly.”

 

“However, that will not be necessary. Should you wish us dead, we will fall on our own swords at your command, or otherwise bare our necks to the blade. We offer you our greatest apologies. We behaved inexcusably in standing against you at Sekigahara. But please – we beg you give us another chance. Tokugawa is a Toyotomi vassal just like us. We cannot follow him as our master.”

 

Hideyori rubbed his forehead with one hand and grimaced. “You realise the situation this puts me in? No matter what you say, I cannot trust you. There will always be suspicion that you are spies from Tokugawa. I cannot simply have you re-join my ranks. Not only will my men distrust you and possibly rebel, I may be inviting enemies directly into my castle.”

 

The newcomers looked up, stunned at Hideyori’s assessment – how he had analysed the situation so quickly and accurately. Hideyori noticed these looks sometimes from his men, but could never figure out what they were surprised about.

 

“Mitsunari, I would have your thoughts.”

 

All eyes turned to the red-haired man. Mitsunari stared into his lap with clenched fists for a moment, then wet his lips. “I cannot beg for their forgiveness. They betrayed us for no apparent reason.”

 

“Then let’s ask them, shall we? Masanori,” Hideyori addressed the black-haired man, “why did you betray us at Sekigahara? Did you perhaps have people to protect from Tokugawa’s wrath like Nobuyuki Sanada?”

 

“No, My Lord,” said Masanori.

 

“Then, _pray tell_ , what are your reasons?”

 

Somewhere in the distance, a cicada buzzed, heralding the coming of night.

 

“Do you perhaps think I will lose?” asked Hideyori.

 

Kiyomasa cleared his throat. “We… we did think that, My Lord. But no longer. Your father united every warlord in Japan. We realise now… we were wrong to think you were different from Lord Hideyoshi–”

 

“Speak my father’s name again and I will cut you down myself,” said Hideyori in the same tone as one mentioning it was a sunny day today.

 

“Yes, My Lord,” said Kiyomasa. “My apologies.”

 

“Lady Kai,” said the young Lord, “what say you?”

 

The samurai woman sat quietly, thinking of her answer, then said, “I would suggest sparing them, My Lord. They have the capacity to be a great asset. If they’re genuine.”

 

Hideyori nodded – he hadn’t heeded Lady Kai’s counsel enough lately, he’d been so relieved at Mitsunari’s survival he’d turned to him more often. “Very well. You can thank Lady Kai for your lives. But make no mistake; you are not my retainers. You will be placed under house arrest until I have need of you. Lady Kai, ensure there are guards on the door at all times. No one comes in, no one comes out. Anyone who does will answer to me personally. I cannot be certain you aren’t spies, you understand.”

 

Hideyori rose and Kiyomasa and Masanori, who had raised their heads to speak, dropped them again. “Yes, My Lord,” said Kiyomasa, “Thank you.”

 

Hideyori turned around to the door, but glanced back at them. “Oh, and I forgive you for thinking I would lose. I’ve been hearing it a lot lately, but rest assured I have plans for how to crush Tokugawa.” Then he smiled – just visible over his yellow collar – as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “But I’m not telling them to you.”

 

***

 

2 Days after Sekigahara

 

It was morning. Hideyori stirred on his futon and pulled the covers over his head, trying to block out his responsibilities, desperately wishing his problems would sort _themselves_ out. Eventually, he dragged himself from the futon, dressed, and set about replying to his letters. The he pulled out a leaf of yellow paper, and began long elegant strokes with the inkbrush, tears in his eyes.

 

That evening, Hideyori wound a formal black kimono around himself. Securing the sash in place, he proceeded to Osaka Castle’s main courtyard, in which a human-sized box sat atop a long stone pedestal close to the ground. A great many people had gathered. Yoshitsugu had no family left, but he’d been close with many people. Mitsunari, who had been like a brother to him, stood beside Nobuyuki. Yoshitsugu’s funeral seemed to have quelled their animosity. They stood shoulder to shoulder, silently mourning their fallen friend, places in the feud forgotten.

 

The previous funeral arrangements had been completed. This was the last step before Yoshitsugu’s ashes would be lowered into the grave. Hideyori stepped up to a platform and thanked them all for coming. After the speeches, Hideyori took a deep breath and opened the yellow leaf of paper.

 

“Our dear friend Yoshitsugu Otani’s death was a tragedy.” Hideyori choked up. “He was one of the kindest, most loyal people I’ve ever known. I swear his death will not be in vain. I’ve written a poem to mourn him.” Hideyori looked down at the paper. After he'd read the poem aloud, he realised some people were crying. He considered himself a poet but had no idea his poetry could…

 

He turned his face away, toward Mitsunari.

 

“Mitsunari, would you do the honour?” Hideyori held out two rocks to Mitsunari, who walked forward and took them, then knelt by the pedestal and struck the rocks together, hands shaking slightly. A fleck of red leapt from the rocks.

 

A second.

  
All was silent.

 

_Whoof!_ The oil-coated box went up in flames.

 

Hideyori stared into the crackling flames, feeling them resonate within his soul, feeling them harden his resolve and burn away all self-doubt. He would not let Yoshitsugu’s death be in vain. Yoshitsugu had died fighting for _him_. He had to carry on his legacy, for Yoshitsugu and all his other retainers who had fallen beneath his enemy’s blade.

 

With sudden clarity, Hideyori realised this was exactly how Mitsunari had felt when Hideyori’s father had died. His father had given Mitsunari everything. A home. A friend in Hideyori. A purpose in life. Hideyori knew Mitsunari had fought at Sekigahara to carry on his father’s legacy. Mitsunari could not allow the son of the man who had given him everything to be stripped of his birthright.

 

No one else, _NO ONE ELSE_ , would die for him as Yoshitsugu had. Hideyori would make sure of it. No one else. No more. The heat of the flames singed his skin and set his heart on righteous fire. No more.

 

After the rites, the courtyard was cleared of everything and everyone except Mitsunari, who refused to leave his side. Hideyori approached Nobuyuki Sanada and handed him a scroll, accepting the invitation to meet with Tokugawa at Nijo Castle in Kyoto. Hideyori would go to Nijo for two reasons: to rescue Sakon and to kill Tokugawa.

 

The silver-haired man handed him a scroll back. Hideyori blinked, shocked, then cracked the seal. Hideyori’s eyes skimmed the contents, then looked up at Nobuyuki, who nodded. Hideyori smiled and nodded back.

 

“Lord Hideyori!” A voice broke across the courtyard. One of the guards ran up to him, carrying a large cane basket. “My Lord, this basket was left at the gates. We believe it’s from Ieyasu Tokugawa. There was a note attached.”

 

Hideyori took the note and read.

 

_The sun will fall._

 

Great foreboding sprung up in Hideyori’s heart as fire had sprung up around coffin. “Open it,” said Hideyori, suddenly sure he knew what was inside. The guard took the lid off the cane basket. Inside was a head.

 

_No. Please no._

  
The guard lifted it by the hair. Hideyori felt the world tilt. Mitsunari had a look of pure outrage. Nobuyuki had gone pale.

 

Sakon.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hideyori worries. Mitsunari is there.

**Chapter 7 - Hideyori Breaks**

 

It was night and the walkway lamps were lit. Mitsunari turned a corner and came upon his Lord sitting alone cross-legged on the edge of the wooden veranda outside his quarters, looking despondently into a cup full of _sake_ (rice wine). The _sake_ bottle sat beside him. No one was around, not that anyone came to this area anyway. The long-haired man approached carefully.

 

Lord Hideyori turned his head to face him. His long brown hair had been let out, and it tumbled around his shoulders and down his back. Mitsunari was nineteen and was once again struck with how beautiful his Lord was. The point of his jaw, the hair, the brown eyes that were so often filled with fire behind a mask of impenetrable ice.

 

“My Lord.” Mitsunari knelt beside him. “Are you alright? You look… distraught.”

 

Lord Hideyori blinked. “I’m fine.” He did not sound fine.

 

“Are – are you sure, My Lord?”

 

The young Lord hunched over his sake cup. Long brown stands to fell over his face. “I hate him,” he said so quietly Mitsunari almost didn’t hear.

 

Mitsunari glanced at the _sake_ bottle but saw it was almost full. His Lord had poured himself one tiny porcelain cup so far (which was now empty) – so he wasn’t drunk. “Hate who, My Lord?”

 

“ _Who do you think?_ ” said Lord Hideyori in a voice like ice. “The bastard who’s threatening my life and taking my allies and killing my retainers!” His voice had steadily rose. Then, outburst complete, he made a little noise in his throat and covered his face with his hands. Then starting from a tiny sob, he broke down into tears, leading to great heaving sobs racking his body.

 

It occurred to Mitsunari that Lord Hideyori had just let down every shield and every mask he had so perfectly put in place during the day – that this was the real Hideyori shining through, breaking under the burden that one of his age should not have to bear. His Lord was frightened – frightened of that _bastard_ who Mitsunari wished he could kill with his own two hands.

 

Mitsunari stared at the crying man. What was he supposed to _do_? He would never touch his Lord without permission, but right then he explicitly imagined pulling him into a tight hug to let him cry into his black kimono. He only realised he’d reached out with a hand when his Lord looked at it.

 

Just hovering there. He pulled it back but…

 

“You can touch me, Mitsunari.”

 

Mitsunari rocked back on his heels. _What?_ Lord Hideyori truly trusted him enough for physical affection? That was impossible. He’d failed him, hadn’t he? But then he saw his Lord’s brown eyes, marred by dark circles. Drunk on his own daring, he scooted closer and wrapped an arm around him, resting the palm on his back, the touch so light it was almost non-existent. His arm was stiff and shaking, but then his Lord looped his arm around his own back and covered the hand with his own, so that Mitsunari’s arm was a solid pressure against his back.

 

Lord Hideyori let the hand on his back gently guide him toward his retainer, shifting him from cross-legged onto his knees to better slot against Mitsunari’s side. He looped his arms around Mitsunari’s neck and sobbed into the front of his kimono, holding on tight as if Mitsunari would disappear at any moment. His Lord’s body was pressed to his side, and Mitsunari blushed a deep red to match his hair. He rubbed his hand - touch slow and feather-light – up and down the brown-haired man’s back, hoping it didn’t make him feel uncomfortable.

 

How did one normally comfort another? Comfort was not a samurai’s most developed skill.

 

“I’m here. I won’t let anyone hurt you, My Lord.”

 

“Please, Mitsunari, call me ‘Hideyori’. I may be dead within days since I’ve accepted the invitation to Kyoto. I’d like to hear at least one person call me by name. I haven’t heard it without titles since…”

 

_His father._

 

“As you wish – um –” Mitsunari went to say his Lord’s name, but it caught in his throat – it sounded so _wrong_ from his lips on its own.

 

The young Lord pulled back, cheeks tear-stained. Mitsunari pulled out a small cloth from his kimono and wiped away the tears, then handed it over for Lord Hideyori to blow his nose, which he did. Loudly. “Say it, Mitsunari.”

 

“ _Hideyori_ ,” said the red-haired man, very quietly.

 

Hideyori smiled and pulled away. “It sounds good when you say it.”

 

Mitsunari blushed a deeper shade of red.

 

“Would you mind pouring for me?” asked Hideyori, holding out the _sake_ cup.

 

“Yes, My – I mean – Hideyori,” said Mitsunari, stumbling over the words. He picked up the _sake_ bottle with both hands and poured, the most formal way of _sake_ pouring.

 

“Thank you,” said Hideyori, and downed the cup in one swig.

 

Mitsunari immediately poured him another, which he sipped. “You said you’ve accepted Tokugawa’s invitation to a meeting at Nijo Castle.”

 

“Yes, but I’m not going in unprotected. I have plans. I’ve written letters,” said Hideyori cryptically, “I’ll be okay. I have six retainers now after all, if you count Kiyomasa, Masanori, and that brute, Keiji.”

 

“Did Keiji say something unpleasant to you?” Mitsunari forced himself to cut out the titles.

 

“Keiji said many things, Mitsunari, none of which I’d like to repeat.”

 

“ _That bastard_. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

 

Hideyori scoffed. “Hardly. As if he could.”

 

“I didn’t mean physically.” Mitsunari was so intent on refilling the _sake_ cup he didn’t realise what he’d said until it was too late.

 

“ _Fine, Ishida_. He hurt my feelings. He called me a child.”

 

Mitsunari paled at the use of his family name, which Hideyori used in jest as a kind of light insult, but his retainer saw as a sign of Hideyori’s displeasure.

 

“Would you like me to do something about him?”

 

“I think I did all I could.”

 

Mitsunari poured _sake_ again. “What did you do?”

 

Hideyori had a cat-like expression staring the cup. “Beat the shit out of him.”

 

Mitsunari raised an eyebrow at the language. “I see. But you’re still concerned that your plans for Nijo Castle won’t end well?”

 

Hideyori pulled a letter from his kimono and held it out to Mitsunari. “I wrote to our allies at Aizu. This was their response.”

 

Mitsunari read.

 

_Lord Hideyori Toyotomi,_

_The House of Uesugi is greatly troubled to hear of your plight and wish to help you in any way we can. However, Tokugawa has pigeon-holed us into a deal in which our finances and army have been stripped to a sliver of their original value, and we are currently being forced to relocate._

_Unfortunately, we cannot assist you under our present circumstances. We wish you great luck in your plans._

_Yours,_

_Kagekatsu Uesugi_

_Great Lord of Aizu_

 

Hideyori pulled half a dozen more scrolls from his kimono and let them scatter on the wooden walkway. “Our other allies say similar. I’m being cut off. Mitsunari…” Hideyori mumbled something.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“I’m afraid.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“I gave my answer to Sanada tonight to take back to Tokugawa. I just… don’t know if I’m strong enough, internally, to carry out my plan.”

 

Hideyori Toyotomi, _the great Hideyori Toyotomi,_ was doubting himself? “I know you can do it, Hideyori,” said Mitsunari, forcing out name to see Hideyori's smile, “I have complete faith in you. And any parts you can’t do, I will gladly do for you, even at the cost of my life.”

 

Hideyori settled his drowsy head in Mitsunari’s lap, looking up at him, eyelids at half-mast, a besotted smile on his face. “We talked about this.”

 

“Yes, I know, I’m not allowed to die.”

 

“Nope,” said Hideyori, eyelashes brushing closed, “If you do I’ll be sad. Really… really… sad… mmm…” His voice trailed off as he fell fast into a _sake_ -induced sleep.

 

Mitsunari blushed again, and his brain short-circuited. What was the protocol for this situation? Alright, so there was none – trust Hideyori to put him in this position. How troublesome. Mitsunari gazed down at Hideyori and felt a strong urge to card fingers through those long brown strands. Mitsunari thought he must have inhaled some _sake_ fumes.

 

Sighing, Mitsunari gently picked Hideyori up in his arms, one under the back, one under the knees, head tucked against Mitsunari’s chest, and rose. He was so light, it worried him. Had he been eating properly? Sliding the door open with his foot, Mitsunari carried him to his futon and pulled the covers over him.

 

“It’s going to be alright,” he said, one knee on the ground, staring down at that long brown hair, now splayed over white bedding, that peaceful expression he wished Hideyori could wear during the day, “We will defeat Tokugawa at Nijo.”

 

Hideyori turned on his side, facing Mitsunari, and muttered in his sleep, “Don’t… go…”

 

Then Mitsunari said quietly, though he knew Hideyori could not hear, “I’m here. I’m not going to leave you.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If some of this feels confusing/awkward to read, it's done intentionally to mimic Mitsunari's feelings as Hideyori smashes rank barriers to dust.
> 
> Comments are greatly appreciated!
> 
> ***
> 
> COMING UP: THE GANG GOES TO NIJO CASTLE TO MEET THEIR GREATEST ADVERSARY FACE TO FACE!
> 
> IT'S HATE-CHARGED DIPLOMATIC PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE SHOWDOWN TIME! WHOO!
> 
> NEXT EPISODE: Business By Day, Assassination By Night!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hideyori finds Tokugawa in his seat of honour. It does not go down well.

**Chapter 8 – Nijo Castle**

 

3 days after Sekigahara

 

Mitsunari heaved a supply bag onto a pack horse for their trip to Kyoto. Remembering that Hideyori had insisted on riding a horse rather than in a palanquin, he called out to a stable boy to handle the saddling.

 

A few hours later, they were seated on their horses – Mitsunari to his Lord’s right, and the other five retainers arrayed in formation around him. They also had a small force of a hundred soldiers in yellow armour travelling in formation around them. Hideyori looked over at Mitsunari and smiled. Mitsunari’s heart fluttered for some reason.

 

The trip to Kyoto went uneventfully – Mitsunari was almost upset, he would have liked a good fight to blow off some steam.

 

Hideyori and Mitsunari rode side by side through the gates of Nijo Castle and down the long lines of castle staff on either side with their heads to the cobblestones. Hideyori swung off his mount and his retainers followed suit.

 

He turned to Kiyomasa and Masanori. “This is your last chance. It’s not too late to turn back to Tokugawa yet. If you walk into the Audience Chamber with me, you’ll be committed. You’ll be Tokugawa’s enemy. Are you absolutely sure you want to be on my side?”

 

“Yes!” said Masanori emphatically. “I hate this godforsaken feud! I just want it all to end!”

 

“We’re sure,” said Kiyomasa quietly.

 

Hideyori nodded to them. A servant led them to an inner room where his greatest enemy was located. Hideyori noted the pattern on the door and said to the servant,

 

“There must be a mistake. This is the door for the person being addressed.” The door led into the length of the Audience Chamber, rather than the dais.

 

The servant smirked. “Yes, it is.”

 

Hideyori looked the servant dead in the eye and smiled. “I see.”

 

Mitsunari shivered. It was an awful, awful smile that Hideyori had levelled at Mitsunari only once before – when Mitsunari was thirteen and they had been playing together and Mitsunari had accidentally broken Hideyori’s favourite toy. The night that had followed had seen unknown forces throwing Mitsunari from his futon into a pile of snow, to high-pitched laughter like the tinkling of bells. His Lord had been different back then, not yet weighed down by the world’s problems.

 

Hideyori slid back the door with a _clack_ and strode into the chamber, his six retainers fanning out around him into the room.

 

Hideyori stalked toward the dais, right toward Tokugawa.

 

***

 

Hideyori had never hated a man this much before. Tokugawa sat in the seat of honour on the dais at the end of the hall. He had retainers to his left and right below the dais. Hideyori recognised them all; they’d all been his people once.

 

He locked eyes with the silver-haired Nobuyuki Sanada, whose expression was blank, then at his wife beside him, Lady Ina, whom Hideyori couldn’t bring himself to hate no matter how much he tried – he’d admired her strength since they were children. Her father sat beside her, Tokugawa’s deputy, who had two giant horns on his helmet.

 

Then he looked over to Tokugawa’s toad of a son, whom he had always hated. The boy had often tried to pull his hair when they were children. Then he looked at a man with spiky black hair who he didn’t know beyond that he was Tokugawa’s favourite henchman.

 

His own retainers entered and fanned around him. They were ragtag, but Hideyori cared for all of them (except maybe Keiji). It gave him a hint of sick satisfaction to have Kiyomasa and Masanori behind him – like dangling a carrot in front of a pig. _Look who’s here, look who deserted you_ , their presence seemed to say.

 

“This is an outrage!” Mitsunari said, close by Hideyori’s side, “The seat of honour belongs to Lord Hideyori, not _you_!” He said _you_ the same way one would say _fungal growths_.

 

“It’s alright, Mitsunari,” said Hideyori and walked up to Tokugawa.

 

Then Hideyori set one perfectly turned boot on the dais.

 

“Move,” said Hideyori.

 

The Audience Chamber fell completely silent. Not a whisper. Not a movement.

 

Hideyori mounted the dais. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me, Tokugawa. I _said_ move from my seat. Or would you disobey your Lord and Master?”

 

Everyone in the room was stunned. Mouths hung open. Someone dropped a coin to the floor with a clatter. The moment stretched for an indefinite amount of time. Hideyori and Tokugawa stared each other dead in the eye and didn’t blink. Hideyori’s beautiful young aristocratic face looked down on Tokugawa’s bearded one as one would look down at a stain on their kimono. He was still technically Tokugawa’s Lord, despite his open rebellion.

 

Hideyori had taken him by surprise – no one would have guessed the milksop Lord of Osaka would do this. Slowly, so slowly you could almost hear his bones creak, Tokugawa rose from the seat, and for one heart-stopping moment, Hideyori thought Tokugawa might end all his perfectly laid plans with a knife in the ribs.

 

But he didn’t - it was a diplomatic event, which meant fighting was forbidden by law. Tokugawa simply stepped. One step to the side. Hideyori stepped up to the seat of honour, and turned, and pointed to the floor below the dais. “Move there,” said Hideyori. His enemy was blank-faced, which was the Tokugawa equivalent of one of Hideyori’s saccharine smiles. Tokugawa stepped off the dais. And stood there.

 

“Kneel,” said Hideyori.

 

Tokugawa’s face went even blanker. Hideyori wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment. He hoped so.

 

Tokugawa knelt and sat back on his heels.

 

Hideyori sank down cross-legged in the seat of honour, rested an arm on the low armrest, and smiled at Tokugawa, chin in hand. Tokugawa opened his mouth to speak.

 

“Greet you Lord properly,” said Hideyori. Oh, this must have been killing him. Hideyori wondered if he, Hideyori, was enjoying this a little too much.

 

Tokugawa placed his hands on the floor and dropped his head between them. “Lord Hideyori,” he said, voice dripping with hate.

 

Hideyori turned his head to Mitsunari, who had joined the line of retainers on the right. “Mitsunari, come here.”

 

“Yes, My Lord.” Mitsunari walked up.

 

Hideyori gestured to the space on the dais just above and in front of the first of Tokugawa’s retainers, who was below the dais. “You can sit here.”

 

Mitsunari looked stunned as he mounted the dais and knelt in the spot. He almost quailed under all the eyes on him. It was a strategic spot, between Hideyori and Tokugawa’s cronies.

 

Finally, Hideyori turned back to his enemy, who had sat back up on his heels. “What did you wish to speak to me about, Tokugawa?”

 

“I wish to discuss with you our plans moving forward. You seem to be under the impression that I’ve betrayed you.”

 

Hideyori laughed, high and tinkling like bells. “ _Under the impression_. Will you pretend you didn’t march your forces on mine at Sekigahara on your way to Osaka – that you weren’t stopped by only the sacrifices of all but a few of my retainers as they decimated your armies then perished? Will you pretend that you didn’t strip my allies of their funds and their lands when they showed interest in helping me?”

 

“Whatever your notions about me, I came here to discuss matters of state, not point fingers.”

 

“Oh _do pray tell_ which matters of state?” Hideyori.

 

“There are large numbers of _ronin_ (masterless samurai) converging in Osaka. Could you tell us why?”

 

“Why don’t _you_ tell _me_? Who was it who made them masterless, hm? _Ronin_ are to be expected when you wipe out a large number of Lords.”

 

“I would hate for your vassals to see the same fate,” said Tokugawa, watching Hideyori lounge in the seat.

 

“I’m sure you would. You know, if you want to rule Japan, you could ask.”

 

“And if I did, would you cede your throne?”

 

Hideyori smiled. “I would not. I will not cede my birthright. I will not see Japan handed over to a man who would try to crush his enemies with needless violence and wars. I will follow my father’s dream to create a land where everyone can live in peace. _The end does not justify the means_.”

 

Hideyori got up. “Osaka has just harvested its new tea leaves. I take great pride in Osaka’s tea and humbly invite everyone in this room to come back to Osaka to try it.”

 

Here it was. All his planning, his letters, his speeches, all leading to this moment. If he was going to assassinate Tokugawa tonight, he would need to take back some of his retainers. After all, he needed to quieten the castle garrison as well ensure there were enough people to watch his back.

 

Which of his opposition would stand first?

 

No one stood.

 

Seconds passed.

 

Hideyori began to internally panic. Would all his plans go to nought?

 

No one stood.

 

Seconds passed.

 

No one stood.

 

Seconds passed.

 

No one stood.

 

Hideyori considered how he would escape, how he would switch to Plan B.

 

No one stood.

 

Then someone stood.

 

Lady Ina, Nobuyuki’s wife. “I’ve heard the tea in Osaka is good,” she said, “that it has a more pleasant aroma than the tea in Edo.” She looked straight at Tokugawa.

 

Then someone else stood.

 

Lady Ina’s father, the man with giant horns on his helmet. “I too know the worth of Osaka tea. I will drink tea with you, my daughter.”

 

“I have no need of tea,” said Tokugawa’s spiky haired crony.

 

“Yeah!” yelled Tokugawa’s toad of a son, “I hate tea!”

 

“I find Osaka tea repulsive,” said Tokugawa, “If I could I would burn every tea leaf in Osaka to the ground.”

 

All eyes turned to the last man in the room.

 

“Nobuyuki,” said Ina, “will you drink tea with me in Osaka?”

 

Nobuyuki’s eyes were troubled. He took a deep breath. A million emotions seemed to run in his eyes and over his face. He clenched his hands into his pants. “I too know the worth of Osaka tea. However, I cannot join you, Ina.” He rose and the couple embraced sadly. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

 

“We will see each other again, my love,” she said tearfully, “when we have finished drinking tea.” They kissed, bodies entwining.

 

Nobuyuki pulled away and smiled sadly. “I look forward to it.”

 

***

 

It was sunset at Nijo Castle. The Great Lords of Osaka and Edo were staying overnight. The sky was stained an orangey-purple, like a bleeding wound that wouldn’t scab over. Hideyori was not basking in his victory – sure he had two more retainers (and Tokugawa had two less), but the real victory dance could come after he had stuck a knife through the man’s heart. His conscience quavered at the thought, but for the sake of Japan, his people, and the ones he loved, he would do it. He would stain his hands red with Tokugawa’s blood. Tonight. At midnight.

 

All his retainers knew of his plan – they were ready to incapacitate the castle garrison at his signal. But his enemy’s death wasn’t scheduled for a few more hours, and all the threads of his plans hadn’t yet come together. There was one more thing he had to do.

 

As Hideyori approached a corner, he heard laughter behind it, and the distinct sound of the giant Keiji offering to drink _sake_ (rice wine) with Yukimura and a few other of his retainers. There were cheers of approval and Hideyori pressed his back to the wall and peeked around the corner. They were sitting in a loose circle at the edge of the wooden walkway – Yukimura with his knees pulled up to his chest as Keiji poured for him informally once-handed, resting his weight back on the other hand.

 

Hideyori felt a sudden inexplicable shard of loneliness pierce his heart. He had never had this sort of companionship, except for Mitsunari at times when he could be coaxed out the shell of reverence that he seemed to throw up around Hideyori. Hideyori had come for Yukimura, to take him to see something important, but now that he was here, the last thing he wanted to do, the very last thing in the world, was break up this shining moment of casual comradery with his presence.

 

Whenever he entered a room, casualness died.

 

The shard lodged deeper.

 

He thought he caught a flash of pink in a nearby tree, and when he looked closer, he saw there was something there. Was that a girl? In the tree? Wearing pink? Pink didn’t strike him as the most ninja-y of colours, but who was he to judge? Suddenly, the girl turned her head towards him and their eyes met. She almost fell out of the tree.

 

Hideyori felt his mouth quirking up at the sides and desperately tried not to laugh. He held a finger to his lips. The ninja girl nodded at him and turned back to the group of people. Hideyori looked around the corner again.

 

“I can’t believe my brother still sides with the enemy,” said Yukimura, punching the ground beside him. Then quieter, “he’s such a fool.”

 

“I’m sure he only wants best for his people,” said the short silver-haired Kiyomasa gently.

 

“So everyone keeps saying,” said Yukimura, “but at this point it seems he’s being stubborn just for the sake of it!”

 

Hideyori stepped around the corner, he couldn’t eavesdrop forever. “Yukimura, sorry to interrupt, do you have a minute?”

 

A _sake_ cup went flying, splattering liquid over the grass, and the rest were either flung aside or thrown into nearby shrubbery as the men all scrambled to press their foreheads to the wooden walkway. “Lord Hideyori, how may I serve you?” said Yukimura in a very formal register and didn’t see Hideyori’s sad expression.

 

Hideyori quickly schooled his face into blankness. “I need to borrow you for a while. I need you with me for the next part of my plan.”

 

“Yes, My Lord.” Yukimura rose to his feet and followed Hideyori past the rest of his retainers and through a garden. Then, just before Nijo Castle’s inner wall, Hideyori approached a willow tree and swept aside the curtain of low-hanging boughs and leaves, so thick it completely obscured the view of the inside. Yukimura followed Hideyori beneath the tree, hearing the boughs swish back into place behind him. Hideyori walked up the thin tree trunk, around which was tied a bow-shaped clip inscribed with six gold coins, the Sanada crest.

 

Then someone else swept aside the low-hanging leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> If you're liking this story, please don't hesitate to comment! :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heel-face turn and heartfelt reunion. After that: assassination.

**Chapter 9 – Reunion**

Yukimura’s POV

“Brother,” breathed Yukimura as Nobuyuki Sanada pushed through the leaves of the willow. The silver-haired man strode forward, boots pressing marks into the wet dew-covered grass. The world held its breath as he stopped a few paces from Hideyori. Then he prostrated himself.

 

“ _My Lord_ ,” said Nobuyuki, using the formal title of a retainer toward their master, “I am ready.”

 

“Nobuyuki,” said Hideyori, voice filled with emotion, using his first name, “Thank you.” Then: “Rise.”

 

Nobuyuki stood, and Yukimura realised what was happening. Nobuyuki was here. Nobuyuki was _here_ , and he was… Yukimura surged forward and pulled the silver-haired man into a bone crushing hug. “ _Brother._ ” He sounded on the verge of tears.

 

“Yukimura.” Nobuyuki didn’t weep, but he sounded like he might. He hugged his brother. “I’m back.”

 

“ _I missed you, brother. I missed you so much._ ” He’d momentarily forgot Hideyori was close by.

 

“Yukimura, you’re crushing me,” wheezed the older brother, and pushed Yukimura away gently.

 

“What made you change your mind?” asked Yukimura.

 

Nobuyuki’s mouth quirked up at the side and he pulled a scroll from his kimono sleeve pocket. “This.” He handed it to Yukimura, who read:

 

_ Declaration of Transit _

****

_Origin: Osaka Castle_

_Presiding Official: Hideyori Toyotomi_

_Destination: Ueda Castle_

_Presiding Official: Nobuyuki Sanada_

_Purpose: Rehabilitation of Ueda and her people following siege by Hidetada Tokugawa, son of Ieyasu Tokugawa_

_Contents:_

_5 000 kilograms of rice_

_5 000 barrels of clean water_

_4 000 kilograms of beef_

_4 000 kilograms of fish_

_10 000 blankets_

_8 000 tents_

_Signed:_

_Hideyori Toyotomi_

_Great Lord of Osaka_

 

 

Yukimura glanced at Hideyori, who was turned away and gazing at the sky.

 

“Tokugawa intends to make his son the Shogun. He’s in Kyoto now for that very reason – this meeting at Nijo Castle was just a side plot for him – he’s heading to the Imperial Palace to have himself instated as the Shogun, the first in hundreds of years, and then hand the title down to his son. How can I follow a man who needlessly sieged our home and harmed our people, over one who’s sent them aid, even though I spat in his face at Sekigahara?” said Nobuyuki. “Yukimura, you were right – I’m a fool and a coward.”

 

Yukimura was already shaking his head. “You’re not a fool, brother. You were doing what you thought was best for our people – even though you were incredibly _hard-headed_ about it.” Yukimura playfully shoved his brother.

 

Nobuyuki stumbled back and laughed – a deep honeyed sound. Then, smile still lingering, he turned to Hideyori and bowed. “My Lord, I will remain your vassal until the end of my days, if you will have me.”

 

“As I said our letter correspondence, you are always welcome at Osaka.” Hideyori’s smile was radiant like the sun, so different from the terrible smiles he’d directed at Tokugawa in the Audience Chamber.

 

“Thank you, My Lord. I can never repay your kindness.”

“You can. Information on Tokugawa. We’re dreadfully in need, ever since my father’s ninja left after his death, we’ve had no way of gathering information on our enemies.”

 

“I have the information – Tokugawa’s plans, his numbers, the layout of his base at Edo. Whatever I have to give is yours.”

 

Hideyori closed his eyes for a moment, as if revelling in a victory. “You have no idea how helpful this is. Thank you, Nobuyuki.”

 

“ _Hang on._ When did you make this decision, brother?” asked Yukimura, rounding on him.

 

“I gave Lord Hideyori my response at Yoshitsugu’s funeral.”

 

“If you made this decision days ago, why did you pretend to side with Tokugawa in the Audience Chamber? That touching display with your wife…”

 

“Ahaha,” Nobuyuki’s rich laugh resonated, “that. Yes, that was my dear Ina’s idea. I warned her it might not work, that it might be too over the top. I’ve never been one for public displays of that kind, but I trust her judgement. As she so wisely told me, tearful goodbyes tend to deflect suspicion. But rest assured, there was a reason. I was privy to Tokugawa’s plans after the meeting. He was fuming, but as far as I know there are no plans for him to leave his room tonight. He’s staying in the room at the end of the hall on the fourth floor.”

 

Hideyori nodded. “Good. Knowing his location is greatly beneficial.” He turned a chilling smile on the brothers. “Six coins at the ready, Sanadas. Tokugawa breathes his last tonight.”

 

***

 

Midnight. The futon was soft on Hideyori’s back. His sword was beside him. His retainers were posted at various places around the castle. The castle guard was nowhere in sight. Mitsunari was in the room next to him. Hideyori wondered about that – he hadn’t heard a sound from the room all night – did Mitsunari have ninja-like silence skills?

 

It was now or never. He pushed himself up onto one arm, ears straining. Not a sound. A shadow appeared outside the semi-transparent screen wall connected to the wooden outer walkway. It moved silently across the walkway toward Hideyori’s door, too slowly, too quietly. Had one of the guards escaped his retainer’s incapacitations?

 

It crept closer and closer to the door, a slinking predatory shadow. _Move past, move past, move past_ , thought Hideyori.

 

The door opened silently and a knife sunk into the wall right beside his ear. “Don’t move, or the next will be in your head,” said a rasping female voice.

 

Hideyori’s heart jumped to his throat. _Oh god, oh god._ He opened his mouth to scream for Mitsunari. The door closed behind the woman.

 

“Don’t scream either, unless you want a knife between the eyes,” said the rasping voice again.

 

Hideyori was frozen as the shadow slinked closer. A slight woman in form-fitting black and a gleaming knife between the fingers of her left hand. Her face was uncovered, and black curls tumbled down her back, framing her pointed face. Hideyori had always hated her.

 

“Who are you?” he asked, throat dry.

 

“You know who I am,” rasped Tokugawa’s ninja, Hattori.

 

She slinked closer, like a lioness sneaking up on its prey, then she was standing over him and leant over, bringing her face to close to his, close enough to kiss. “I have to take you in for questioning, sweetheart. It won’t hurt _that much_. So come quietly, alright?”

 

“Alright,” said Hideyori, as he rose and slammed a dagger in her ribs. Or at least he tried to – Hattori twisted out of the way. Although the attack had failed, it distracted her for a second, giving the young Lord enough time to grab her wrist and wrest the throwing knife from her hand before running a few paces away. “MITSUNARI, HELP!” The scream shook the air.

 

Hattori’s pretty bow-shaped lips parted as she laughed, terrifying and rasping. “Your little lapdog isn’t coming, dear.”

 

Hideyori stumbled back a few steps. “What?”

 

“Your _darling_ Mitsunari. We tried for so long, but he just wouldn’t break, no matter how much pain we put him through. He was loyal to you till the end. We didn’t get a scrap from him. He chose death over divulging your secrets.”

 

“ _What did you do to him?_ ” It was unthinkable… Mitsunari… wasn’t coming… that was impossible…

 

“I gave him his wish. Oh and he had a message for you before he died… something about not being able to follow your orders…”

 

No.

 

No.

 

She was lying, she had to be, Mitsunari couldn’t be…

 

“And now,” Three more throwing knives slid into Hattori’s left hand, one between each finger. “You will follow him.” She smiled and her teeth were sharpened to points like a shark. “After we draw your secrets from you, of course. Piece by piece.”

 

Her hand moved as a blur and two of the knives spun toward him, knocking the dagger and throwing knife from his hands, sending them spinning across the floor.

 

He was unarmed.

 

Mitsunari wasn’t coming. Mitsunari was…

 

His other retainers were stationed in other areas of the castle, awaiting his signal. They weren’t coming.

 

It was all over.

 

So close to fruition, his plans had burned to the ground.

 

He was going to die.

 

He was going to be tortured, then he was going to die.

 

“So be a good boy and come along now,” She moved in his personal space again.

 

She’d killed Mitsunari…

 

Hideyori let out a blood-curdling scream. He launched himself bodily toward the woman and tackled her to the ground. They grappled on the wood floor, flipping over and over each other. Then Hattori pinned him down, straddling him, and held a knife to his throat. This was the end.

 

Then the door crashed open. Hideyori tilted his head back and saw upside-down. Standing silhouetted in the door was a man bleeding from multiple places, blood as red as his hair.

 

“You,” said the ninja astride him, “you’re supposed to be dead. _I ordered you killed._ ”

 

“That man no longer takes your orders. I think you’ll find Nobuyuki Sanada’s allegiance has changed.”

 

“ _What._ There’s no way you can be standing after what I did to you!”

 

Mitsunari’s war-fan snapped open.

 

“You underestimate me, bitch.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh!
> 
> This is throwing a spanner in the works!
> 
> Do you think Hideyori will be able to get out of this? Comment your answer!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At what price does rescue come?

**Chapter 10 – Foiled Plans**

The ninja pressed her knife closer to Hideyori’s neck. “Don’t move. Come one step closer and he dies,” she said frantically.

 

Hideyori tilted his head back further to look at Mitsunari, whose presence had quelled his anxiety to a nervous whisper. Mitsunari stood stock still, every muscle singing with tension, war-fan held out threateningly.

 

The knife pressed closer, drawing blood. “Drop the fan.”

 

Mitsunari suddenly looked terrified, as if finally taking in the situation, seeing the knife at his neck, seeing the small trickle of blood. He slowly put down the fan.

 

“And the sword.”

 

Keeping his eyes on Hideyori, the red-haired man slowly drew his sword from the scabbard and placed it on the ground. His eyes burned into the woman with frightening intensity.

 

Hideyori panicked. “She wants to kill me!”

 

“It’s alright, My Lord, she wouldn’t dare.”

 

“I think she would!” Hideyori.

 

“Doing so would be monumentally foolish on her part. If she did so, there would be nothing holding me back. I would gut her like a fish and display her head on the castle gates for the crows to feast on her eyes.” He turned the burning eyes on Hattori. “Harm a single hair on his head and I will make what you did to me seem like the brush of a feather.”

 

Hattori flashed shark teeth. “Such threats, my dear. Step aside, would you darling?” She pressed the knife closer, making Hideyori whimper.

 

Mitsunari ground his teeth.

 

“ _Now._ ”

 

Mitsunari stepped aside, as if every muscle was rebelling. Hattori hauled the young Lord to his feet and, knife at throat, hand bunched in the back neck of his tunic, pushed him past Mitsunari and out onto the wooden walkway. She dragged him backwards down the hall, Mitsunari following five steps behind, sword back in its holster, fan in hand, unable to move closer for fear of the knife slitting Hideyori’s throat.

 

The gap began to close at Mitsunari sped up. “Stay _back_ ,” rasped Hattori, and Mitsunari slowed down. Hideyori was panicking. So helpless, he hated himself. Tears sprung to his eyes.

 

“Mitsunari!” yelled Hideyori, sounding pathetic in his own ears.

 

A whistling in the air and a ninja throwing knife lodged itself in Hattori’s arm with a wet _crunch_. “Ah!” The knife had come from the darkness beyond the walkway, halfway between them and Mitsunari. Her grip loosened for a moment, the knife came away from his throat by an inch. That was all he needed. Hideyori shoved the knife arm away from him as hard as he could and sprinted forward toward his best friend, boots striking the wooden boards.

 

Hattori yelled and lunged toward him. Hideyori wasn’t fast enough, arm outstretched to Mitsunari, fingers splayed. Mitsunari launched himself forward, but was too far away. Hattori’s long pale fingers curled around the lip of Hideyori’s tunic neck.

 

Then a ninja star zipped out of the darkness and to wetly _crunch_ into her arm. “Ahh!” She yanked the star from her arm, but it was too late.

 

Hideyori reached Mitsunari, who swung an arm behind Hideyori’s back and swept him behind him in an arc, fan slicing it’s razor sharp edge toward the woman, whose head would have separated from her shoulders had she not backtracked as fast as possible. She drew something from a holster at her waist and flung it at the floor. There was the sound of metal striking wood and the hallway filled with smoke for a few seconds. It cleared and Hattori had disappeared. There was a rustle in the garden beyond the walkway, and Mitsunari went to follow it.

 

Hideyori, still in a panic, grabbed Mitsunari’s flared kimono sleeve, tugging him backwards. Mitsunari turned his head to Hideyori, question in his eyes.

 

“Don’t leave me,” said Hideyori quietly.

 

Mitsunari’s eyes turned heart-breakingly gentle. He dropped to one knee before Hideyori and flared the fan over his heart. “As you wish.”

 

Then servants were rushing out to them, alerted by the commotion, lamps were being lit. A maid saw the trickle of blood running down Hideyori’s neck. A trickle of blood ran from Mitsunari’s hairline straight down his nose. The maid sounded an alarm, and there were sounds of people stirring. Someone said something about alerting Tokugawa.

 

Hideyori suddenly remembered his assassination plan. It had failed, there were more people running toward them now. Their cover was blown. Hideyori directed the servants away to awaken the infirmary – Mitsunari was bleeding from multiple wounds, that was more important than his plan.

 

Hideyori had two flares in his kimono. The yellow one was to alert his retainers to silence the castle guard. The blue one was the signal to return to him because the plan had failed. He took out the blue one.

 

Mitsunari rose. “There’s no need to abandon your plan over me – they’re just scratches.”

 

Hideyori turned burning eyes on him, flared even brighter than Mitsunari’s had been before. “You’re bleeding. Profusely. You look like you’re about to pass out. You’re swaying on your feet. I can’t continue the plan with you in this condition. You’re going to the infirmary. To do that we have to wake the castle.” He lit the flare and soared into the sky.

 

“But–”

 

“ _No._ ”

 

Mitsunari quailed.

 

Yukimura ran toward them, feet striking the wooden boards. “My Lord, your plan!”

 

“Mitsunari’s hurt. He needs immediate medical attention.” People in healer’s robes came running with a stretcher. Mitsunari had sunk to the ground unconscious from exhaustion and blood loss, and they set about loading him onto the stretcher. Hideyori was eternally grateful that Yukimura was there – he didn’t feel safe in the gloom on his own. Hideyori stared at Mitsunari’s unconscious retreating form, and a thought occurred to him.

 

“Whoever threw that knife, if you’re still there, come out!”

 

Yukimura looked confused. Then a girl dangled herself upside-down from a nearby tree by her knees like a bat. A girl in pink. Wait, wasn’t she that ninja in the tree from earlier? Hideyori and Yukimura approached her.

 

“Hey! I’m Kunoichi. Lord Yukimura’s ninja. And this is Tsukimaru.” She pointed up to the flying squirrel sitting on the branch next to her knee.

 

“Pleased to meet you, Kunoichi. You saved my life. I cannot thank you enough.” Hideyori bowed.

 

“Yeah, you too. Glad to be of help. I hate that woman anyway, I just wish I’d got her head. My aim was a little off.” Kunoichi smirked and let her knees straighten, doing a flip in the air to land on her feet. A bit of a show-off, but Hideyori didn’t mind.

 

“Kunoichi,” said Yukimura, “you were a part of this?” He took her by the forearms. “You’re not hurt, are you?” he asked earnestly.

 

“No, silly. I’m fine.” Kunoichi stuck her tongue out.

 

“You did well, so well…Kunoichi…” Yukimura had moved closer to her, then seemed to remember Hideyori was there and pulled away from her, blushing. He cleared his throat. “Good job.”

 

The wakened infirmary had alerted the castle, and a small crowd was gathering behind Hideyori. His retainers were there, wondering what was going on and why he’d cancelled the plan. And Tokugawa was here, his son and only remaining retainer on either side.

 

“Oh no,” said his enemy, “what happened?”

 

Hideyori’s plans had gone down in flames and Mitsunari could be dead from blood loss. That was what had happened. The sun was rising. No one would be going back to bed. What he said was,

 

“Oh nothing, I just have a propensity to sleepwalk, and I seem to have cut my neck on a branch. But I’m fine, still alive and kicking.” He looked Tokugawa straight in the eye.

 

“My my,” said Tokugawa, “how unfortunate. About the branch, that is.”

 

Tokugawa’s plan to have him tortured and killed had failed, but Tokugawa would still get to the Imperial Palace. He would still become Shogun. He would still make his toad of a son the Shogun afterwards, not right away of course, but soon enough.

 

Tokugawa’s plans had only partly failed.

 

Hideyori’s had gone down in flames.

 

***

 

Hideyori was in the infirmary, staring down at his unconscious retainer on the raised futon, who was wearing a sleeping kimono and was patched up in multiple places. Hideyori frowned.

 

“He should be fine,” the doctor was saying, “most likely just exhausted. Do you know what happened to him?”

 

“He got lost in the forest at night,” lied Hideyori, “took a few scrapes.” He wasn’t revealing affairs of state to this woman.

 

She looked sceptical, but acquiesced. “I see. Well, I recommend a few days bedrest. He’ll most probably wake up today, tomorrow at the latest. Have your healers put this ointment on his wounds twice a day, dawn and dusk, and make sure he _stays in bed._ No strenuous activity for at least a week.”

 

“I’ll make sure it’s done. Thank you very much.” Hideyori bowed to her.

 

“No problem at all,” the doctor said, bowed back, and left the room. Hideyori sunk down on his knees next to the futon.

 

“Please wake up,” he said, “Mitsunari, please, I can’t do this without you.” He was on the verge of tears.

 

“Hi… de…” The voice was so soft Hideyori almost missed it.

 

“Mitsunari,” he said, head jerking up, “Mitsunari, can you hear me? Follow my voice.” He leaned over Mitsunari.

 

Mitsunari’s eyelashes fluttered open. Then, seeing Hideyori hovering over his face like an anxious fly, Mitsunari tried to sit up quickly, too quickly, and their foreheads banged together.

 

“Ow!” Hideyori.

 

Mitsunari’s vocalisation was more of a hiss as he tried to push himself up on one arm. Hideyori immediately went to stop him, and in the heat of the moment, slammed a palm down on Mitsunari’s chest, causing him to fall back to the soft bedding.

 

“Stay down,” said Hideyori, tucking his hands into his own kimono sleeves for warmth, “if you move, you’ll reopen the wounds."

 

Mitsunari took a deep breath. “Are we still at Nijo Castle?”

 

“Yes, we’re staying an extra day for you to recover.” Mitsunari opened his mouth to protest, but Hideyori cut him off, “ _It’s non-negotiable_. You’re hurt. You need to stay in bed.”

 

“ _Please… Hideyori_. If you stay, Tokugawa will find a reason to as well. The longer you stay, the longer your life is in jeopardy. I might not be able to protect you. You can’t risk your life for me. Take me on a stretcher if you must.”

 

“A stretcher… but wouldn’t you be afraid to lose face before your soldiers?” Hideyori had considered a stretcher, but had dismissed it on the assumption Mitsunari would be too embarrassed to be carried back in such a fashion.

 

“Your life is more important than my pride. Please…” Mitsunari reached out and took the flared end of Hideyori’s kimono, bringing the arm inside closer. Then he gently took Hideyori’s hand and brought it to his face, pressing his lips to the space between knuckle and joint. “ _I beg you_.”

 

Hideyori felt a slight blush stain his cheeks. “Alright, if you’re sure,” he whispered.

 

“Thank…y…” Mitsunari’s voice was drifting off. Hideyori put a hand to his forehead. It was burning up. Mitsunari drifted in and out of consciousness.

 

“Get a doctor!” yelled Hideyori, hoping someone would hear. Footsteps sounded outside the room. Good. He reached for a nearby wooden bowl and wrung out the cloth sitting inside. He lay it on Mitsunari’s forehead, then linked his retainer’s fingers with his own. Mitsunari squeezed back, weakly, breathing heavily.

 

“Mitsunari,” Hideyori whispered, “don’t leave me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this development unexpected? Or was Kunoichi's appearance expected since I foreshadowed her a couple of chapters ago?
> 
> Any reviews or thoughts are greatly appreciated! 
> 
> Leave me a comment and I will always reply! :)
> 
> P.S: Yes, every fire analogy is completely intentional :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11 - The Toad Comes to Osaka**

 

It was evening when Hideyori’s procession rode through the gates of Osaka, stars twinkling, moon a sliver, making the grounds unusually dark. The lamps had been lit, but the shadows remained. He moved out from the middle of the procession, retainers and soldiers parting before his horse, and was met by Lady Naomi, the Garrison Deputy and now Acting Captain until Mitsunari’s recovery.

 

“Lord Hideyori, welcome home,” she said, “You have an important guest waiting.”

 

“Who is it?” Hideyori drew up his horse beside her.

 

“It’s Hidetada Tokugawa. He says he has a message for you from his father.” The disgust was clear in Lady Naomi’s voice. So Tokugawa’s toad-like son was here.

 

Perfect.

 

_Just perfect._

 

Hideyori was already tired from the ride, assassination attempts, worry over Mitsunari, and constant emotional strain. “Tell him I’m busy and will receive him in the morning,” he said. He dismounted and went to walk away.

 

“Forgive me, My Lord, but he was quite insistent on seeing you tonight.”

 

“And _I_ am quite insistent on going to bed.” Hideyori continued to walk, when Lady Kai, his samurai lady bodyguard, ran up.

 

“It may be best to receive him right away, My Lord. You may be in danger tonight if you don’t assess his level of threat, especially with Mitsunari out of action,” said Lady Kai. Hideyori felt incredibly frustrated. Couldn’t anyone _leave him in peace_? Would this ever end? If Mitsunari was here…

 

“Mitsunari’s out of action? What’s happened? Is he okay?” Lady Naomi asked Lady Kai.

 

“He was captured and hurt by Tokugawa’s ninja. The doctors say he’ll be fine, but his temperature keeps spiking and they’re afraid he’ll –”

 

“Could we _please_ stop talking about Mitsunari.” Hideyori’s voice was strained, then he felt bad for interrupting. “Please… lets talk about it later. I’ll receive the toad – let’s get this over with.” He sounded irritated even to his own ears, and strode off toward the Audience Chamber.

 

When he opened the door with a _clack_ , eight of his nine retainers were lined up, four on each side, however the atmosphere was different from when he’d left. Shadows danced around the room from the flickering wall lamps. Mitsunari wasn’t there, with Yukimura moving up the line to take his place at Hideyori’s right below the dais. Nobuyuki stood beside him, tense, arms crossed. Lady Ina and her father were there too.

 

Most different of all was that everyone was standing where custom dictated they kneel. It became instantly apparent why. Hidetada Tokugawa, squinty eyes darting around the room, stood in the middle of the column, arms crossed, a heavy scroll in hand. None of his retainers would lower themselves when he had refused to do so himself. It was a breach of manners on the toad’s part. They all had their hands on their weapons, ready to jump toward their enemy at a moment’s notice.

 

The atmosphere was thick. Hideyori’s frustration spiked. He really didn’t want to be doing this right now. He strode toward the edge of the dais and stood there. Like hell he was going to sit when everyone else stood ready to bite at the newcomer’s throat, though he supposed he wouldn’t mind if the toad was somehow beheaded.

 

Without given permission to speak, Hidetada said,

 

“Took you long enough.”

 

Hideyori reached such a high point of anger every part of his being froze to ice. His words. His voice. His heart.

 

“ _Oh?_ ” the syllable reverberated off the walls, and his retainers looked like ice had frozen into their veins. “Are the Toyotomi required to wait on dirty traitors now? _I wasn’t aware_.”

 

“Well you should be. And how can you say that when you harbour dirty traitors yourself?” He glanced meaningfully at Nobuyuki. Poor Nobuyuki – he had been called a traitor twice now in this very room, by both sides of the conflict. “My father has a message for you,” said Hidetada arrogantly.

 

“ _Oh, I’m sure he does_.” Hideyori’s words spat venom.

 

The toad showed all his yellow teeth. “He says he extends an “invitation” for you to move to Edo.”

 

“I will not be moving to Edo. Lock up this toad.” Hideyori turned on his heel, ready to march out of the hall.

 

“You must move to Edo,” said the toad.

 

Hideyori stopped, back turned from Hidetada. “Oh, I _must, must I_?” Pure ice froze across the hall. No one moved. No one made a sound. He simply stood there, back turned, mind running through multiple plans. He settled on one. It would work for now. The silence stretched uncomfortably.

 

Then he turned.

 

The room held its breath.

 

“Seize him,” said Hideyori. Lady Kai and Yukimura launched forward and seized Hidetada. He strained against their arms as Hideyori stalked up to him, steps making defined and foreboding _clunk-clunk-clunk-clunk_ noises against the floor. Straight up to the struggling toad, an inch away from his face, back straight.

 

Then he smiled a saccharine smile, right into his enemy’s face. “You think to intimidate me? You are nothing to me but muck beneath my boot, ready to be scraped off as it pleases me. Best watch your tongue if you wish to live to see the morrow.”

 

Hidetada was livid and thrashing in his captor’s arms. He stuck his torso and head out toward Hideyori. “You’ll never be half the man your father was!”

 

Everyone in the room knew this was the wrong thing to say. A _smack_ of flesh hitting flesh and Hidetada’s head was jerked to the side. Hideyori wiped his hand on his tunic as if wiping it of filth. Hidetada whimpered.

 

“Kill him,” said Hideyori.

 

Lady Kai’s eyes widened. “My Lord?”

 

“Did I stutter?”

 

Nobuyuki stepped forward and drew his sword. “I will gladly spare the world this filth.”

 

Of course, this was the man that had brought needless harm upon Nobuyuki’s people. Nobuyuki pricked his sword at the back of Hidetada’s neck, and the toad went stock still.

 

Hideyori was desperately backtracking internally. No, he wouldn’t have the man killed yet. There was another use for him. “No,” said Hideyori and Nobuyuki immediately obeyed, pulling back. “I still have use of him. Lock him up. A strong guard – I’m not taking any chances. In the morning, he will tell us everything he knows of his father’s plans or have his head sent back to his father in a basket. That is all.”

 

Hideyori stalked out of the Audience Chamber and the door shut behind him with a _clunk_.

 

***

 

Hideyori found Yukimura deep in one of the castle gardens, staring up the flowers of a cherry blossom tree. Slowly, pink flowers began to fall around him. One floated languidly downward to land directly on top of his head, and Hideyori couldn't help but giggle. One of the most feared warriors in Japan crowned with a pink flower.

 

Hideyori found himself once again unwilling to break up the moment. Yukimura reached up and took the flower in his hand. He stared down at it and smiled. This beautiful scene and Hideyori found himself once again having to sully it with plans for war. He wished he could let Yukimura view the cherry blossoms in peace.

 

"Hey Yukimura, do you have a moment?" Hideyori's anger had calmed considerably since the Audience Chamber. He'd now had time to construct his strategy and found himself falling into the usual calm determination with which he carried out his plans. Step by step. One section at a time. Pull all the threads together.

 

Yukimura started, then turned and bowed. "Yes, My Lord."

 

"I know this is a lot to ask, but would you consider allowing me to ask a favour of your ninja, Kunoichi?"

 

Kunoichi was, of course, her own woman, and didn't need Yukimura's permission to do anything, but it was rude to ask things of another's ninja without getting permission first. It was like asking an ally if you could borrow a large contingent of soldiers.

 

"Ah, of course My Lord, but may I ask how dangerous this will be?" Yukimura said.

 

"Not too dangerous, don't worry. I know you care for her." Hideyori smiled sincerely, nothing like the smiles from before.

 

Yukimura blushed slightly. "Ah, yes, well..." Yukimura broke off, clearing his throat. "Kunoichi, come out!"

 

A familiar pink form dropped from the sky - there were no trees above them - how had she done that?

 

"Hello," bubbled Kunoichi, "I heard something about a favour?"

 

Hideyori smiled at her casual speech. She hadn't even used a title, but Hideyori found he didn't mind.

 

"Yes, Kunoichi, I have something to ask of you, but you're well within your rights to refuse if you like," said Hideyori.

 

"Well go ahead," said Kunoichi, lounging back against a tree with her fingers linked behind her head.

 

"Right," said Hideyori, "you're a ninja, right?"

 

Kunoichi raised her eyebrows. "I'm pretty sure."

 

"And that means you know about... poison... right?"

 

Kunoichi's eyebrows rose even further and she made a vague sound that sounded like "hmmm". "Who do you want me to poison?"

 

"Uh..." Hideyori's face heated a little. This was a most improper thing he was about to suggest. "I need you to poison Tokugawa's son. Just make him feel a little nauseous. I definitely don't want him dead. Yet. I have a plan and I need him to hate me for it to work.”

 

"Haha. I've never heard of a person wanting someone to hate them before."

 

"I assure you, it is all part of a larger plan."

 

"Alright, done. A weak poison, just slipped sneakily into his tea or something. I think I can handle that, I am the renowned Kunoichi, greatest of ninjas, after all." She really was a show off, but Hideyori found it endearing.

 

"There's someone else who's going to help you, too," said Hideyori. There was the rustling of footsteps in grass and Lady Ina walked up to them, back held straight. "This is Lady Ina. I'm sure you've met before."

 

Kunoichi reached surreptitiously for a knife on her hip. "We've met. I suppose we're on the same side now, huh?"

 

"Yes,” said Lady Ina.

Kunoichi scrunched her face up and stared at the woman. Lady Ina stood serenely, not a hint of emotion on her face.

 

“I need Tokugawa’s son poisoned so we can lure a Chaos Ninja called Kotaro here. It’s said he appears when people are slighted and looking for revenge. Once Kotaro shows up to talk to the toad, I'm counting on you two to apprehend him.” Chaos Ninja were practitioners in the supernatural, and also the mortal enemies of honourable Samurai Ninja like Kunoichi.

 

Kunoichi grinned. "Oh yes, a scuffle with a Chaos Ninja. Sign me up."

 

"I'm glad you're on board." Hideyori smiled. "I thought you'd be most suited to the job."

 

"Yeah, it's always to pleasure to take those ruffians down a few pegs," said Kunoichi.

 

Hideyori nodded. "Thank you, Kunoichi. Please do it tonight."

 

"Can do," said Kunoichi, and bounded into the air and disappeared.

 

***

 

Kunoichi's POV

 

Kunoichi was so ready. She was doing this for multiple reasons. Unlike Hideyori, she didn't have long detailed Plan A’s and B’s and C’s and D’s. She just wanted to protect Lord Yukimura and have some fun in the process. Lady Ina walked over to her. She was still wary of the woman after her and her husband, Nobuyuki, had split from her and her Lord. But if Yukimura trusted her, she couldn't be all bad. Right?

 

"I'm looking forward to this mission, too," said Lady Ina.

 

"Why? Hungering for glory?" asked Kunoichi, with more of a bite than she’d intended.

 

Lady Ina narrowed her eyes. "Of course not. I'm doing this because I have someone I want to protect."

 

"Lord Hideyori?" asked Kunoichi.

 

"My husband,” said Lady Ina.

 

"Oh."

 

"Not everything revolves around Lord Hideyori, you know." Lady Ina looked amused, then her face fell serious. "Nobuyuki is a good man who I intend to protect for the rest of my days, for better or worse. He deserves better than all the hate he's been getting."

 

"I can understand having someone you want to protect," said Kunoichi, glancing at Yukimura, who was wandering off in the other direction.

 

"I think Mitsunari understands that too," said Lady Ina, ever perceptive, who turned to look at the red-haired man running up to Hideyori on the wooden walkway, his fever down, wounds bandaged and secure, whom Hideyori rounded on and was pointing a finger at menacingly.

 

Hideyori said something that included the words "wounds" and "bedrest". Kunoichi smirked. "Excuse me," she said to Lady Ina and climbed a nearby tree to listen.

 

"Mitsunari, you're pushing yourself too hard," Hideyori was saying.

 

"I assure you, I'm fine."

 

"You are not fine."

 

"Really, there's no need to worry."

 

"Mitsunari so help me, I will thump you with your own fan." Hideyori's words were playful.

 

Mitsunari's face broke into a mischievous grin. "Ah, but would that not aggravate my wounds?"

 

"You..." Hideyori couldn't seem to find the word he was looking for.  Kunoichi giggled. " _You ginger menace_."

 

Mitsunari laughed - it was the first time Kunoichi had heard it and she was relatively sure he wouldn't laugh for anyone except Hideyori.

 

"You're impossible," said Hideyori. If she didn't know any better, Kunoichi would have bet there was an affectionate undertone in that phrase. But she knew that was absurd. They began to walk side by side along the walkway, shoulders close, almost touching. Mitsunari’s shoulders were slightly higher.

 

Suddenly, Hideyori’s face fell. “This is like how it used to be, before my father died, and all this happened.” He stopped. “Why _did_ you change, Mitsunari? You were always so carefree before. What was that name you called me on my twelfth birthday?”

 

Mitsunari had blushed a light pink and turned his head away. “I don’t remember.”

 

Hideyori beamed. “Really? Wasn’t it “donkey-eared snow muncher”? Very original. I eat snow ONE TIME out of curiosity and you never let me forget it! I was nine!”

 

Mitsunari coughed as if trying to smother a laugh. “Oh. That.”

 

“Yeah. Then you got all weird. I think it was around my… was it sixteenth birthday? You stopped playing with me and wouldn’t tell me why. I thought you hated me for a while. You got so…” Hideyori scrunched up his nose. “Serious.”

 

“I apologise. I didn’t mean for you to think I hated you. There were…” Mitsunari broke off, and at Hideyori’s questioning stare continued. “Circumstances.”

 

“’Circumstances?’ What circumstances were important enough for you to suddenly get ultra-stuffy on your best friend?” Inquisitively.

 

Silence.

 

Hideyori raised an eyebrow.

 

“I was… warned against… being too close to you.” Mitsunari.

 

“ _What?_ By who? What do you mean?”

 

There was a long-drawn-out silence. Kunoichi go the feeling she was intruding on something personal. But she was a ninja. It was her job to gather information. She settled herself in the tree.

 

Finally, Mitsunari spoke. “By your father.”

 

They were on dangerous territory. From what Kunoichi gathered, Hideyori _really_ didn’t like talking about his father.

 

“My… my father? But… I don’t understand… why would my father not want you to be my friend?”

 

There was no anger, just confusion. Kunoichi raised her eyebrows. Hideyori must be very close with Mitsunari if he was willing to broach the subject of his father.

 

“You were going to be married soon. Your father thought our relationship was… inappropriate… that we were so close that it would make it hard for you to take a wife. That you would…” Mitsunari’s voice became strangled. “I cannot say this.”

 

“Say it. Please.” Intensely.

 

“That you would…” Mitsunari’s shoulders tensed up. The words were almost inaudible. “Want me instead.”

 

They stared into each other’s eyes. Hideyori wet his lips. “Mitsunari, I…” He trailed off.

 

“You should send me away,” said Mitsunari, “For me to even suggest such a thing…”

 

Hideyori’s eyes were soft. "Of course I won’t. How could I send you away? Who would watch my back then?"

 

"You have eight other retainers," Mitsunari pointed out.

 

Hideyori looked up at Mitsunari with liquid eyes. Kunoichi's ninja vision allowed her to see the pupils dilate.

 

"But none are like you," said Hideyori.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone!  
> Comments are greatly appreciated and inspire me to write and post more! :)


	12. Chapter 12

  **Chapter 12 – Chaos Ninja**

 

Hideyori crouched outside the screen door, feeling a little like a ninja. In the room beyond the door, he could hear Hidetada stumbling around with heavy steps as if drunk. So Kunoichi had done her job. He put his ear to the screen door and heard Hidetada curse him in some very inventive and colourful ways. Yes!

 

There was a yelp then a dark chuckle from inside the room.

 

“So pathetic,” said a deep voice that sounded like it has ascended from the pits of hell. There was a high-pitched scream that Hideyori assumed was from the toad.

 

“You’re just a whimpering a little toad, aren’t you? You’ll never be strong enough to defeat your enemies,” said the deep voice.

 

Kunoichi and Lady Ina should have been hidden in the room (Hideyori had a hunch Kunoichi was in the rafters).

 

“And you think you can do better?” blustered Hidetada, obviously terrified. Black smoke wafted out from under the screen door. Was the deep-voiced man making the smoke appear? Hideyori hadn’t heard about that.

 

“Oh, you despicable whining creature, I could kill all your enemies in the blink of an eye. But then there would be no one to fight each other, no one to kill each other, and it would make life terribly boring, wouldn’t you agree?”

 

“N-no!” said the toad, “Wait, you ninja make deals, right? You appear when people are in need! I’ll make a deal with you! All you have to do is–” Hidetada cut off into a gurgle and there was the thump of a body hitting the floor.

 

Then the deep voice was saying, “What is–” before he too was cut off as he was wrestled to the floor by the weight of two females. Scuffling and crashing noises as he tried to right himself. “What is this! Hey! Get off me!” The definitive thump of a heavy body hitting the ground.

 

Hideyori stood, righted his tunic, then opened the screen door casually. “Kotaro, how nice of you to drop by.” Kotaro lay on his belly, face a mask of rage, teeth bared. Kunoichi had a foot planted in his lower back which Lady Ina held a sword to the back of neck.

 

“Well if it isn’t the Toyotomi brat,” Kotaro sneered, “I take it you want something.”

 

“Take him out,” said Hideyori to the guards outside the door, gesturing to Hidetada, “to a room far away.” Hideyori waited until Hidetada had been rushed from the room before continuing. “You’re right. I want something. You used to work for my father, did you not, Kotaro?”

 

“When I wanted to,” snarled Kotaro, “I don’t recall him ever sicking his ninja on me though.” He tried to glace purposefully at Kunoichi but the sword at his neck prevented it.

 

Hideyori quickly hid a smile behind his hand. “Didn’t Lady Nene go after you once? When she found out you were being inappropriately close with one of the guardswomen? Actually, wasn’t it multiple of the guardswomen?” Lady Nene was Hideyori’s stepmother, known for her fierce temperament. She had disappeared after his father’s death, but Hideyori didn’t fear. Lady Nene was too stubborn to die.

 

Kotaro blanched a little. “She’s not here, is she?” His voice had lowered, as if she would pop out of the woodwork at any moment.

 

Hideyori only just held back his laugh. He considered telling Kotaro she was and threaten to get her if he didn’t comply, but then Kotaro might call his bluff, leaving him looking foolish. “She is not. And I am not asking you to work for me for nothing in return.”

 

“ _Oh_ ,” said Kotaro, sneer back in place, “I suppose you will offer me your honourable favour? Land and titles, perhaps? _A seashell cottage down by the ocean_?”

 

“No,” said Hideyori coolly, “I will give you those over my cold dead body.” He pulled out a bulging drawstring pouch almost as big as his head, ignoring the ninja’s muttered “that can be arranged”. “I will offer you this.”

 

Hideyori pulled the drawstring and upended the bag, sending a cacophony of coins clanking and clanging to the floor in a waterfall of gold. Kotaro’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. He stared greedily at the mountain of gold a step away from his face.

 

“I need your skills in sorcery,” said Hideyori, “Help me take down my enemy exactly as a tell you and you will receive your reward.”

 

“How many bags?” asked Kotaro.

 

“How many do you want?”

 

You could have heard a pin drop.

 

Then Kotaro laughed a wheezing laugh.

 

“You fool,” said Kotaro, “Don’t make your enemies offers like that! Are you a complete idiot?”

 

Lady Ina broke in. “Make a comment like that again and I will sever your head from your shoulders.”

 

Kotaro bit his tongue.

 

“No amount of money is as important to me as my life and the lives of my retainers and people. Now how many bags _do you want_?”

 

“Twenty,” said Kotaro. It was a ludicrous amount of money. Hideyori had a hunch Kotaro was enjoying baiting him.

 

“Done,” said Hideyori.

 

“And could you throw in that cottage by the ocean?” Kotaro was grinning maniacally now.

 

“Don’t push it,” said Hideyori, smirking, “Now this is what I want you to do…”

 

-0-

 

Hideyori sat in the middle of his chambers, head in his hands. The gravity of the situation had just dawned on him. He’d made a deal with a Chaos Ninja. He had just made _a deal_ with a _Chaos Ninja_. Although his father had done the same on a few occasions, he had always warned Hideyori against it, saying never to trust them – that Hideyori was too trusting, that they would take advantage of him.

 

He was going against his father’s memory, the one thing he had been striving to uphold since his father’s death. Was he slipping from his path? Was everything he was doing wrong? Was he… in the wrong? He had said to Tokugawa that the end didn’t justify the means, but was he now being a hypocrite by using underhanded methods in his plans? Chaos Ninja were definitely underhanded methods.

 

Was he just as bad as Tokugawa?

 

He grasped his hair, thinking it over, falling deeper into his self-hate fuelled daze.

 

Tokugawa was a snake, but Hideyori held his true self beneath the velvet petals of a rose. If those petals were ripped away… What was beneath?

 

A shadow appeared outside his screen door. “Hideyori, sorry to disturb you. May I come in?”

 

Hideyori breathed out through his nose and straightened himself. Only one person would ever call him ‘Hideyori’. “Yes, Mitsunari, come in.” Why was Mitsunari here? It was quite late. Did he have something serious to add to the garrison report he’d given earlier that evening?

 

Mitsunari entered bearing a porcelain bowl and knelt a few steps from Hideyori. He placed the bowl on the floor and bowed. “I apologise for disturbing you so late.”

 

Hideyori placed an elbow on his thigh and rested his chin in his palm, a posture like when he sat in the seat of honour, however now it was more relaxed and the smirk on Hideyori’s face made it into a playful gesture. “Stop that. It’s only me.”

 

Mitsunari sat up and cocked his head to side, as if not understanding a word Hideyori had just said.

 

“You don’t have to bow,” said Hideyori.

 

“It’s supposed to be polite,” said Mitsunari.

 

Hideyori rubbed the back of his neck as if easing out kinks, a gesture he would never do in front of his other retainers or enemies. A sore neck was a weakness, and he had to always stay strong. “Must we always stand on formality? You know we’ve known each other since I was six and you were seven, right?”

 

“You are a daimyo now, so… I thought…”

 

Hideyori sighed and ran hand through his long brown hair which he’d let out of its ponytail earlier. “You know there was a reason I asked you to call me by my name, right?”

 

“You said you wanted to hear someone address you without titles…”

 

“I wanted you to see me as more a person. I haven’t changed just because I took my father’s place as head of the clan. Everyone sees me like that these days. Life used to be so much more relaxed – I used to get in snowball fights with Yukimura when we were kids. It seems like he’s a different person now. I see how everyone acts different around me. When I enter a room, everybody stops laughing. Everyone’s terrified of offending me. I thought…”

 

Hideyori took a deep breath. “I thought if I could be friends with anyone, it would be you. Since we’ve known each other so long. Even though my father said he didn’t want us to be friends.” Hideyori took another deep breath and stared into his lap. He clenched his fists in his kimono to keep them from shaking. “But if you don’t want to be friends again… if you’d rather keep your distance… you can use titles again if you like… I won’t stop you…”

 

Hideyori tried desperately to hold back the tears, tears of fear that Mitsunari would pull away from him again, be once again ensconced behind an icy wall of formality and expectations. He blinked them back as hard as he could and continued to stare into his lap.

 

The silence stretched.

 

Then stretched some more.

 

Couldn’t Mitsunari just put him out of suspense? Was that too much to ask? For Mitsunari to open his mouth and say, “I don’t want to be your friend”?

 

Mitsunari opened his mouth.

 

Then closed it again.

 

The silence stretched some more. Painfully.

 

Mitsunari opened his mouth, then spoke.

 

-0-

 

“I’m sorry,” said Mitsunari, “I was—I am still—your friend. I shouldn’t have treated you differently, no matter what anyone said.”

 

He’d carefully constructed this answer in the painful silence. Before settling on this one, he’d run through multiple other scenarios.

 

This wasn’t anything near the socially acceptable answer, the answer that any good retainer was expected to give. But… from what Hideyori had said he didn’t need to hear him speak as a retainer. He was looking for someone he could confide in, someone around whom he could take off his masks. He was desperately searching for… a friend.

 

A friend, when after his father’s death he’d suddenly been raised to a status where friendship was nigh impossible.

 

He wouldn’t let Hideyori suffer through this alone. He’d made it a goal to ensure that Hideyori got through each challenge alive and healthy. If Hideyori didn’t have anyone to talk to about his problems, then that would surely be bad, would it not?

 

A selfish little voice in the back of his mind said he was only doing this for himself, that he enjoyed spending time with Hideyori. That he always had. That he enjoyed it when Hideyori became playful and laughed around him, told him he had nice _hakama_ to jokingly change the subject or fail miserably at trying to insult him because he found it so hard to be mean.

 

“I’ve always been your friend. Because I like you as a person,” said Mitsunari.

 

Whatever Hideyori had been expecting, this was not it. He reeled back. “But… I’m not a good person.” The words were almost too low to hear.

 

Mitsunari didn’t understand – of course he was a good person. He cared innumerably for his people – that was why he refused to capitulate to his enemy – he would not leave his people in the hands of one so deceitful. He went to great lengths to pull as many retainers as possible back to his side before he would be forced to fight against them. And he forgave them all, even the ones who had blatantly betrayed him to suit their own ends. How could someone so full of kindness think himself a bad person?

 

It didn’t make any sense.

 

“As your friend, might I be honest with you?” asked Mitsunari.

 

“Of course.”

 

“You are wrong.”

 

Hideyori broke out into a crooked smile and choked out a surprised laugh. “What? I had one of my prisoners of war drugged to lure a Chaos Ninja here. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I then made a deal with said Chaos Ninja, which is something my father told me specifically never to do. I dishonour his memory. How can I call myself honourable when I make deals with the evillest scum of the Earth?”

 

“Chaos Ninja are not the evillest scum of the Earth,” said Mitsunari, letting the sentence hang.

 

Hideyori’s mouth quirked up at the side. “I suppose not. What’s that for?” He jerked his head toward the cloth-covered bowl that Mitsunari had bought, sitting silently between them the whole time.

 

“Oh… I thought… you might have been feeling down about Nijo Castle, so I…” It was too embarrassing to say aloud. “Please open it.”

 

Hideyori took the bowl in both hands and peeled back the cloth cover. His mouth dropped open. “Mitsunari,” he breathed, “Are these…”

 

“Yes.”

 

Hideyori looked up at him, face lighting up in joy, and picked up one of the white spheres to inspect. “Did you _make_ these?”

 

“Um…”

 

“Oh my gosh, you made me pork buns! The great Mitsunari, a warrior in the kitchen!”

 

Mitsunari couldn’t help smiling. It just happened. “Please…”

 

Hideyori took a bite. “ _Oh my gosh_ ,” said Hideyori through a mouthful of pork bun, “You are the best, oh my gosh.”

 

Mitsunari’s smile widened. “I’m glad you like them.”

 

“Wait,” said Hideyori, swallowing the chunk, “How did you know my favourite food was pork buns?”

 

Mitsunari rolled his eyes. He just _knew_. “I have literally known you forever. Remember that time when we were twelve and I caught you sneaking back to your room at midnight with a pork bun in your mouth.” Mitsunari smiled into his lap. “Then you tried to hide it behind your back and deny it existed.”

 

Hideyori was slightly blushing. “Oh yeah, I remember that.” He smiled toothily. “I had more pork buns in my kimono.”

 

“What.”

 

“I heisted the kitchen of pork buns.”

 

Mitsunari couldn’t believe his ears. How could one person like pork buns so much? Hideyori held the bowl out to Mitsunari. “Share them with me?”

 

“I made them for you.”

 

“How are we supposed to be friends if we can’t even eat pork buns together?”

 

Mitsunari sighed and took a bun. Hideyori held out his own bun, with a bite taken out.

 

“To friends,” said Hideyori.

 

Mitsunari’s mouth quirked up, and he bumped his own pork bun against Hideyori’s, as if raising a glass in a toast.

 

“To friends,” said Mitsunari.

 

Hideyori chomped on the bun. “I hope your fighting skills are as good as your cooking. We’re going to march on Edo.”

 

-0-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> Wow, Hideyori, way to break the news.  
> I'm not sure if anyone reads this story, but if you do, thank you so much for your patience and for reading!
> 
> All reviews are appreciated!


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